I saw a crocus in the white and yellow
Of pre springs winter bloom
The purple stopped my footfall dead
In the wet graveyard gloom
I looked in on the brilliant thing
Burnt orange streaks tucked within
And there was a sigh of relief
Now springtime can begin

My heart won't shut up
If it were a sound
It would be a chello
That is played so softly
Before being repeatedly smashed to bits

Push it down
Force it in
A gap between the legs
It's not a good thing
Ribs and chest look underdressed
And this bra is missing a bit of breast
Appetite has took a little hit
We will need to attend to it
So make a sandwich
Eat it all up
We must remember
Eat your grub!

Your small talk
Was an atom bomb
Talk of the weather;
I could hear a roaring then
Saw a mushroom on the horizon
And a whispering came with along it
A terrifying thought, as I walked on
Hope it's the just withdrawal noia
The whisperer did not gloat
Just a 'thank you' after
And that was all

I wandered through the restraunt
On each table a single white rose
I took a lift
And took a sniff
Feeling no sensation in the nose
On the piano today
Sits a full bouquet
And I attended next to this
Hoping On the grey morning
To steal that summer kiss
I bend and take a whiff
The pink bloom is strikingly pretty
But again no smell of bliss
My connection issue with humanity
That is much like this

Some blood pumping activity
Can take the place of the pipe
If I want it
If I try
But there's a pattern for me
A **** loop i do regularly
Something in my inner deep
Comes up to the shallows
And swallows me
Down a dreadfull piscine throat
To a hell of unknown provoke
Inside the belly of the beast
I scrabble my phone
Grasping relief
"Dude are you home?"
In my hands soon
Is a soft green rope
A ten bag of Cally with powerful poke
Lighting the pipe and taking hold
Out with the bubbles
A most gentle blowhole
Breaching to my inland sofa
Where the sun is sitting now
Put on the kettle
Let's have another round

I was gonna tee totally
Cold turkey it
I was clucking
And the jar of mushys occurred
Cut through the malase
A method of escape
And I boshed a few hats n stems
Then the dealer finally text me back
And so I took off on a bike
Without feeling the wheels
And came on a train
Who don't half make a sound
When it comes to a stop
The thing hitting apon another thing
Two trains exploding past each other
What a thing it was
It was bright and tubular
Welcoming and shiney lights
Then I thought down for a bit
And I could feel the drain lights dip
So I came up in my mind
Looked up at the pretty lights instead