When the outside dims to Bernard
and the flappy things don't whistle,
your consciousness runs inward
and you focus on your worries.
thoke wrote:(There was more but I got rid of it. Now it's just two stanzas that don't really go anywhere...)
When the outside dims to Bernard
and the flappy things don't whistle,
your consciousness runs inward
and you focus on your worriess;
on the stuff you should be doing,
filling up your drawers and skull
(which is dirtybrown and delicate
like the skull of a perching thing).