Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Words. No pictures

'What a prick'
I thought
'How is he so bloody good'
It's like this on every hill.
Prick.
I wouldn't have it any other way.


I think it's hardest
When you're the best you know
It's easy to ask
But, fuck, who?
It's in some books
But I already knew
I am the best I know. I know.
Once I'm past that then
I'm the worst
The worst I know
An utter fool for
All my half-felt feelings
Badly considered words
Half heard utterances
But who to ask?
Too many.
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