She was so, what's the word I'm looking for?
  not *****, some would say submissive.
There is no way she was that, more *******.
But she never let it show, she'd have a way of
controlling the situation to make you think you
        were in charge...

How could I explain it? more like your in a desert,
         thirsty and see a fountain in the distance.
Running towards it your strength disperses,
  and you believe what you see even though your
            swallowing the passing of time.

Even as you choke, you still believe you've
quenched your, I mean her thirst.
          If she was poker, she'd have the winning
hand every time...

So back to the moment at hand, she was so dam
         rough, I had scratches that looked like I'd
had a sleepover at Elm Street.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it...
I liked it when she made me trickle.


That itch while at work, as my back
was healing, it turned me on knowing
that she still lingered even though we
weren't near.
       She had this suffocation issue,
but it was kinker than just naked...
        

It was in a summer dress,
                    and only in the summer.
Like she was seasonal?
I'd lift her dress up. she was pantiless.
           But before that, my hands were even
within her thighs, she was damper than
the grand canyon dry around the edges,
       but between she flowed...

There was no finesse it was all or nothing,
     no gentle hands, deep and hard were her ways.
She knew what she liked. But like a drug,
Its strength diminishes over time,
and the thrill was now near non-existent.  
And a frustrated woman isn't one to be trifled with.

So we got others involved, ones that had
the same suffocating view on life.
Constricted on the normality of ***.
The first one, ***. It was embarrassing.
  We'd guest they were more inquisitive
         than had done it before.

We'd had them sign a waiver on the obligation
of what it entailed. A few drinks later,
Ok, more than a few and it was a melting ***
         of flesh, we were all over each other.
      She strangled my other half one-handed
constricting her flow of air, the other fingers
in her mouth being ****** erotically.

I'd never thought of how ****** this would be,
it didn't matter that it was a woman,
the fact she was arching so much.
All because of another stifling her breath.
                    I had my fun though I was deep
in the other,  **** deep as she didn't want to
be penetrated in her flower, she likes her petals clean??
   My other half could see me over the other'ss shoulder.

Enjoying the fact of both woman were in my bed,
              I was getting close, and then it changed.
She saw that I was about to pleasured by another.
Her hands clasped around our new acquaintance.
For such a petite figure she had a grasp like a clamp.

I felt her clench around my external offering,
           and the smile off my other, it was suffocatingly  
pleasurable. All three of us slumped at the same time.
The bedsheet was drizzly with the fulfillment
  of all three of us. I'd never experienced such a
moment, it was unexplainably fulfilling.

We rested for a moment, and then as I pulled myself
from this sweaty gathering, I needed to ***.
I know wow how romantic, But you open a valve,
waters going to pour eventually.
   Walking back to the bed all smiles.
     She looked at me with fear, but with a hint of
excitement.
                    
"She's dead,

                            "What dead tired?

  "No you ****-wit, as in you just pleasured
yourself up a corpse you necrophilic *****...

I laughed, as I jumped into bed thinking she
was hoaxing me. But she wasn't moving.
  Holy crap that was an ****** to die for??
  She looked at me sheepishly, no not really I got
kind of confused, she was strangling me and i
was so turned on.

But then I saw you about to lift off, and I didn't
like the fact that it was in another and not me.
So I tightened my grip, I heard her throat crunch
under the pressure, and she came,
either in exhilaration or that she'd just died...
Is it wrong that it was a multiple's!!

I've had doubles with you but that,
                                               I'm still twitching.
Oh' not to the fact that there was a dead blonde
in our bed. But the fact she had a multiple with a dead
woman on top. I brushed that thought away as we
had more concerning things,

I said to her,

"Do we phone the police,
             she signed the waiver?

"Do we phone the police!

  She said in a sarcastic manner raising her brow,
  
I could never do that dam thing, she was like
a **** trekky when she did that Mmm..
        I'd live long and **** the **** out her in
that cosplay outfit, pity I broke the ears last time.

Crap, I'm getting distracted.

I  could see where she was ******* from,
       why the hell does the dead woman have
***** *******,  whoops my toothpick just
became a great redwood again.

Are you getting stiff off seeing a dead woman's
******* you freak? They are kind of just there,
As she lent across and licked them.
         Oh, there cold, she looked at me
in her I'm ***** look.  We shouldn't waste an
opportunity really, as she opened her legs
and maneuvered her so she could scissor her.

What you waiting for, put your piece in her gob,
her mouth cold against it, but moist enough
that I face ****** her till we both got close
            kissing each other and ******* at the same
time, wow that was intense,
                                        we both sheepishly smiled.

We both got in the shower, the bed damp still from
                  when all three were breathing but her
head slumped to the side and you could see it dripping
out her mouth as if she was sleeping and  drooling
                       on the pillow.. that's gross.

After we were all cleaned up, we had to decide
what to do, the police wasn't an option.
   We'd watched enough dexters to know that
cutting her up was going to be way too messy..
And last time I got a paper cut I fainted.

Grabbing some cling film out the cupboard I started
To wrap her up, beforehand we went to the store
and brought 15 liters of bleach. I used a kitchen
a utensil  with a short straw-like funnel and proceed
to bleach the inside of her ****.. and gave here a detol
mouth wash, we put the rest in the bath and put
her in there, she hadn't started decomposing and
rigor mortis wasn't overly making her stiff like a plank
so she easily sank to the bottom.

After lunch we let the water out, god she looked clean.
But her eyes had become white, like ghost white
staring at me, like she'd known what we did to her.
I tried closing her eyelids but they wouldn't shut,
so I used a permanent marker to color them in..
   What was I thinking, now she looks ****** possessed.
Drying off was like a ritual we were gentle and making
sure her hair was brushed nicely.


Then with the 6 boxes of cling film, we wrapped
her up nice and tightly.
Crossing her arms over her chest seemed like
a nice thing to do. You never realize when
someone says dead weight, just how heavy that is.
We did that nursery rhyme as we threw her in the boot,

A leg and a wing to see the king and yeet...
    I gave her a 7.5 for landing. As we drove off
we took the map out, using sat-nav was a no, no
as we could have our steps traced back.
   There was an old coal mine just twenty minutes
away, what was cool was that there was an opening
that was so deep but not many knew about it.

I know how convenient is that. We parked up and
we knew we'd have to be quick so I slung her over
my shoulder, walking along I got really damp?

"Babe, what the hell is going on?
                     "Is she peeing on me?

I started to gag, but then the bleach smell hit!
       Phew! she was leaking bleach all over my jeans.
Thank **** for that, I knew these were going
to be burnt later anyway and had a spare pair in
the boot just in case. What I come prepared.

As we got to the opening a couple was standing there
throwing a rolled-up rug down the hole?
we both just looked at each other, what's up?
                              Nothing
What's up with you?
                     Nothing!
We just smiled and dropped our cling film roll
down the same hole. they pulled a knife we pulled
a baseball bat out.

Look, we know what we've both done,
   and if we walk away now you, we,
well neither of us will get hurt or have to throw the
others down that hole. How about the saying.
You didn't see it, so it didn't happen,?

They walked off, we walked off calmly.
That went a lot better than I thought as I laughed.
But just as we got to the car we heard a twig snap
right behind us, out of instinct I swung hard
catching him square in the temple.
as he fell he landing on his accomplice.
She was screaming Oh'my god help me..

My other half leaned over her, foot on her wrist
pulling the knife out her hand.. What were you
going to do with this then.

            "*******, she yelled.

No how about I mouth *******,
and with that, she raised the knife up
and shoved it into the hilt of her mouth.
God, i love this woman.
   As she lay there gurgling..
I mean the noise was nasty..
  So she just trod on her throat and silence.

We looked at each other, and started kissing,
    and before you knew it we had steamy windows
handprints visible to what had perspired in here.
As we got redressed and the tension now reduced
we dragged these two both to the hole.
I mean  my girl just grabbed his feet and like
luggage threw him in. She's so awesome.

You do realize we got from accidental murders
to nearly serial killers now.
And you know what it was such a turn on.
     I must admit we were both turned on by death.
We found their car and drove both down the country
lanes making sure that cameras were nowhere near.
We burnt it out, but not before doing donuts in a field
to make it look like joyriders had stolen it..

After that, we had plenty more lovers, false addresses
to entice, and snare our next lover into false security.
We got tech-savvy as well, in the car we had a scrambler
that blocked their mobiles. most didn't even notice
they lost signal, some did and were over-cautious
                   If they didn't come then unlucky them.

But we remembered that everything was to happen
in the bedroom. Gosh that coal mine is now a mosh pit
of broken voices, that crunch just as we orgasmed.
  That never got old, as everyone was different some
***, others ****** them selfs, that was new and gross.
But luckily we had mattress protectors on and plenty
more in the cupboard. To date, we must have made
love and silenced at least 12 over the last few years.

Only in the summer though,
  and the dresses, god she looks so hot...

Got to go through as our new friend
just turned up in guess what in a summer dress
of all things.
           We just looked at each other and smiled.

I wish every day was a Friday,
that seven-day repetition that
        I no your walking through
my door, no looking back...

Were here all night a 2.5 fraction
of a week where theres just me
             and you, just us....

Runing a 4.5 day missing you
    to a weekend of just us
through the minutes to hours
            to the where did this
                                    weekend go.

The alram sounds, then the race
             to the end of the weekned
starts,finishing as we count mistakes
     of days that we catch on to a friday.

Your here now, were sorry I missed you,
              but the weekend is ours..
  no leaving, were just us, me and you.

            I've missed more than just your body,
           missing your breath on me,
                but now were here in this moment,

long live every weekend when your next to me.

I never wanted to change the sheets,
    as I always smelt you even though

you weren't there.


I loved you from the distance,
             from a kiss from you to us.

But I knew that I needed you to know,
          that I was here even though
you weren't between the pillow
           and sheets keeping me warm.

Sleeping without you, clutching the
             the cusion that had
                        you head rested

next to mine..

Closing my eyes I'd imagine you looking
               lost into mine.
Breathing deeply I feel a moment
       when you loved me.
            

I felt lost till you were next to us,
       we weren't apart.
      But I lost you every time you
             closed the door.

But now you're next to me, no longer
               cuddling pillows of dreams
I  have the real thing, you next to me.

You were  my cross,
    stigmatised for loving

                                        you...

  
  But I'm crucified
for loving him.

When I'm down the sun never
seeks the sky.
                          Just a dullness
that hovers  beyond the grasp
              of my need to rise above

my pain...

I only needed that ray to hit upon my
                                 sighs...

                         I need to not hurt like
before, I cant keep this smile aloft..

It's falling like a shooting star,
   bruised when it hit the ground
             never again found.

   I'm dwindling like the stars caught
                 between the dawn and nightfall.
But never
            a light flickering before its
radiance is just an echo like me..


You'll find me, that star that fell,
        but never wished upon.

Just cold never seen,
               here but missed,
   as I fell from a moment of height
  to a place where I'm low and alone.

We spend to many fractions


taking away or adding up the
                              meaning.

Times are incomplete,
          but we must always
divide every moment so that

everything adds up to the equal
                         breath that we aren't

in control.


But we are but numbers,

                in an equation of now.

May the future never be a sprint,
           but a smile

as that which you cant walk through
       can be traversed

with but a gracious glimmer
              of hope.

And smile :)

If you masturbated a hedgehog,
  
which ***** would you
                make stiff first..


And how many schlongs
                      could you handle at once..

Wow thats deep....

We are just words that sing upon the page,

                                       but some never touch.
Singing in our thoughts.

Repetitive and with meaning, but never
                       do we write a word for us to cling too.


Always humming that repetitive metaphorical tune,
                          that  completes a hum down the line
                                  to a verbose culmination


and we still hum it even now further down the line.

We ponder upon the emotions and metaphors
                                    of the meaning of forever.

Is it our wording our voice, is it a single verse sang
                            within tune with out a tune

that holds our meaning to the here after.

What is out contribution,

      do we sing or justly fade.

For we weren't a stepping stone,
               but a pebble that got buried in the sand.

Now but lost in the footsteps that never even felt us.

A squirrel offered me
              a *******.

But just fondled my
            Nuts the whole time ..

I'm Covid safe,
                when I *******.

I use a  Dettol Wet wipe,
  kills 99.6% cheese...


And 99.99% Covid

   stay safe you wankers...

I ******* words
     And *******
    
.     Stanzas..


And my *** face
      Is the ecstacy

Of the pleasurable
        After thought.

Is anyone else hungry...

She ad this hobby fishing with
    A pole.
      No worms wanted

Dats a fact.

I played it cool rod in da pond,
  That became a pool.

Those
  Waves splashing out.
     Rod didn't catch nything..

But the fish were swimming
    Deep now.  

And we just smiled,
       Who need bait

When the rod catches

    Her every time.

A poet is an insane asylum
     Of disfuctinal metaphors.

We're all a little crazy,
   How else could we


Write the things we do.

We are on a marble
                Of finite cracks.

Let us not be the ones,
     To shatter the purity

That holds the uniqueness
   Of every thing together.

You were the spell,
              I was the words

and together we created

                              happiness.

Never wear another's
     underwear...

Because even though
  you cant see it..

There will always be an odour, stain
      that marks your every movement.

And the only blemish will be on you,

           cos you choose to wear
                         another's pants.

Its not the same as there shoes,
     your just weird wearing there
            
***** underwear.
          worse of all you showed
  everyone them
           who does this anyway.


You were meant to be a friend,
           but you told everyone
what was in there underwear...

          the metaphor lost to some,

so wear some shoes instead..

I'll burn you all like your stumps,
          cutting you lower than you define.


You thought you were surpassing
         maturating high with fake

                               terminology that

        never matured more than a seed
                      of contemplation.

Your dead before you reach my height,
                limp stumps brittle to the flow

of my breath..

windswept failings, your just a seed
                dead in the wind of change.

But the only thing you fall is fake...


          I'll grow beyond your seeds of discontent.

           Watch my syllables plant in the young,
                    growing in height that you never

clipped, every word is nourishment that is
                neither an ego to grow.


But I1'l grow with every sentence read.
         your my wind, gusting me to new

Ground to fertilise the metaphors of nourishment
              that i feed to the masses, no pesticides
                   were used in the growth of this word.

Wasn't the one that fit in,
   table to myself, an ocean
                          of pressed wood

that I float on alone....


But...


    You know there's always a but,

Never really wanted
                                  anyone
on
       my life raft of solitude.

I just look up and know
that
        there's
no one to obscure
       my view of life...

My ocean is a fishery of thoughts,
                                  that are mine.

Swimming into
  uncharted life choices...

But I'm fine alone,
I'll talk to the fishes
every now
and then.

But throw them back
             when

I've finished with them..

Sticky pips coated,
    Groping this Apple

No biting only licking

     Teasing her with

My tongue..

If i was one,
          I'd tie a knot
in myself...

To remind me,
  where the front
starts and the back ends...

I  just need fingers to
                tie myself up..

Now that's a whole other
             idea for another time...

I gave my hand, leaving it hanging
                   there like a bare branch
of unfulfilled swaying.


You just looked down at
it as if  I were dead wood.
                I was felled by your
ignorance, they say trees
make no noise when they fall.

I'd taken out the hillside of respect
for you when mine fell to my side.

          Offered a branch
and you
       felled it for your ignorance.

Never again shall I offer you an
    extension, you'll fall alone
            in the woods of regret
no branches to lean upon...

A knot of truth hangs over me,
more a promise that all things
      come together.

Were a straight line that if
    you take enough steps
leads to an amphitheatre of

                         echoes

reverberating around and around
         resonating with this truth

that all things have a balance.

We start, end, doesn't matter if we
                   stand still of reach for the

heavens..

Eventually we'll just swing silently
                like a extinguished light bulb

hanging dead in the abyss.

Hanging off my limp branch,
             tucked away in there

soft shell..

      These nuts only ever

******

               no nut crackers here .

Haven't wrote in a while my
               words stutteringggggg.....

repeating the words

                     before that

duplicating expressive
                      alterations.

that sounded different!

A particular vibrant diversity,

worded, formulated..
           effectively resonating, echoing

in the same flow that seems different
     but cascading within contrasting similarity's..

Ill never write with the constructs
of ink no matter its shading,
                as it has no edges, no fear or freedom.

Instead I use a scalpel to cut clean words
even though not evidentially visible
             all cuts have meaning.


But ever metaphorical stain takes
         time to show its meaning..


You may not see what I mean
         i write in a different manner to


                                    you.
            

But let time show the interpretation
                     that was there but never understood


till you looked beneath the incise significance
               even if not seen now,

                         just realise its there...

Someone said I was a seed that
                         would grow deep.
But you pulled me before I had


the chance to grow between the
                      fallen brothers that
                             were taller.

But you quarantined me in this
                            this place.

Potted, you told me that I'd grow
                   further than the family

I'd left behind.


   It was a moment
                of concern that I'd never

reach the lengths of my brothers
         and sisters. yet you put me
   higher than they'd ever reach...  

They fell beneath me,
  

                   But no ,matter who falls


were the same branch and we will
                                      always reach further

than my silence as we'll always be



                            reaching further than

than the hate that tries to keep us

       lower than the furthest branch
that we can grow  from the desert of your
            infertile earth.

Always discharging  projectiles  to the left hand side
of my perception, misguided attempts to  traumatise
                             every aspect that follows your breadcrumbs.


But I'm not one to follow the hunger of love,
         bruises show the path that was unyielding
to the malleability restricting my tangibility

            of every needing.

Wondering on the grains that you cant follow,
                       I told you I was always here..


I walk barefoot, so that you can t follow the steps,
             that you brought.


    Its hard for your love to fathom that i no
longer need to follow the footsteps of tears..

Mine are dry and you'll never follow me...

For the seeds were woven yet nothing grew,
                                  that which watched above


sewing the earth with salty tears,
                  for he had asked for the
first woman to seed..


                             And the father
said No.......

You shall not seed fields that aren't  yours.

She is no Mary,
     you will not be an illegitimate
father to my child woven in the
             cloth of forsaken love.


They were a unity of forever.
   Your just a passing thought
to the illegitimate
consequences of fate.

And look where that got you....

There are no fields to sew,
   for your fruit is inedible

            to the palette of humanity....


The nature of you fruit is woeful,
         and your nourishment is


toxic to the substance of our fruition.

If we were exact copies we would find the faults
                                                      that­ make us un-unique..
For some would have a mole in a certain place.
                      Unclean to the others who view
themselves as a perfection of ignorance....

We must all be different to realise that perfection
                    is found in the intricate imperfections

of evolution.

Our faults are what makes
                                    every living thing outstanding,

as were a creation of random fluidity
                                   that makes us no better than those before us,
now, or those who are born
             before our fading
                      of our unique imprint on this pebble.

We all a grain that makes a mark no matter
             our finite moment in this ocean



of finite waves...

I was there floating, collapsing in every direction.
Couldn't gather my barning's. I was a compass lost
                    in the waves of eternities disorientation.

I saw her burn, a billion souls screaming in devouring
regrets that spread like a silent blanket.
Smoothing, asphyxiating every blossom, there life
                            expelled to the wind of  meaningless
teardrops that drenched every corner of this apple.

Now glazed in a hue of ill tasting caramel dust..
      We looked down in disturbance.
But a friend who i'd called a friend, mate.

                Looked at us all, a compass of many
lands who worked together for a better after.
This wasn't a time, a tomorrow. to them it was
Already a shockwave of repercussions..

     This egg shell, cracked silently..
In in this vacuum nothing is collected only vacated
at a velocity of collapsed colours petrified.

I was the last human, in the universe that never heard
        a light blown out by the wind of a billion suns..

We were bright for a moment,
            but we faded just as fast.
           My windshield was cracked,
and my oxygen was leaking like
                    flat tire.

Looking down I pondered if we survived
                 our stupidity...

And just like that, I was in a head on with
                 reality and space...
        My windshield was gone,

I was on the bonnet of purgatory..

You were,
               we are

A memory.


       Now in the recycle bin


and I just emptied all..


We'll always have.....


                   Who were you again..

I'm a broken piano
             missing keys..

But if doesn't matter what
            I lack I'll evolve
myself to play without
    
             the necessity of what
others use and make more of
            what i have rather

than what I don't and my symphony

           will be one to  astound
the sensibility of all who listen to it.

You weaponised me,
         made me the bullet
from the barrel of your

                                    mouth..

For when ever you shot off,
           I was the muzzle flash..

And any one you took aim at.
        was always left
blooded
         by your random shots...

My knuckles still hurt..

A thorn is only as sharp
       as the vine it came from...

So let the flowers flourish over
                        the sharp words.

And let us learn that the smell
                of fresh morning blossom,
is always better than sharp words
          
Pricking blood from our  reflection.

Never ask,
           Always think
                firstly...

                           And then follow
the words backwards,
           to find the meaning


of what was not clear the first time.

sometimes we rewind
                                  to find
what wasn't clear.
            

Freeze framing to find that moment
         we should have noticed
an indiscretion and navigate the
          meaning of where we  

fell to pick ourselves up
                            and recognise

our own failing.

Time is the deconstruction of
          a moment for it doesn't
move forward is every millisecond
an eternity of contemplations
         that were we right or wrong..

But as time moves forward we
            to can move past the errors,
the infractions of our miss stepped
                              refractions.

For if life was a colour we would
              change upon every step.

Because there is never a hue of gold
   but an emotion of woeful regrets.

Remember the time we had,
   for we are never stagnant.
For to ponder on a moment
                   would ensue the folly
of insanity...

Let everything, be a moment
         moving forward..

Not in regret, but in a lesson learnt.

For the well was deep,
      and the water
            endless.

     But I broke on the surface,
Never sinking beneath
The fractured
reflection of the abyss..

******* with sandpaper,


                         smoothing the wood...

You never wanted recollection
of what we were, what we'd
                           become..

There wasn't an us,
           there was
        more of a him over
there,
    her looking into a reflection of
no where's.

We were hand in hand trying to
push the other over a cliff of
                        regretful memories.

But we held on to the memories
                                 of me and you,
Because not all of them were rockslides.


And realised that if we looked at us..
        our reflections were together.

        Be it side by side of raised voices,
               but we knew that I loved her
and you loved me.

We were just a land slide of emotions,
             but always had the others hand

                           so they'd never fall alone...

My veins the roots,
            my mind
the tree,
       growing stronger
over time..
              rings of contemplation
show where I came from.

         Imagination are the  
leaves that flourish in
           rainbow hues.

And every leaf that falls
is but a reflection that doesn't
                                          look back...

But as it falls,
                         Its nourishment
for the ideas that may still be a
             leaf growing next fall..

She plucked his fingernails
            gently out,

                 he loves me,

                                  He
                             loves
                        me

not..

The pollen of love filtered from
            everyone discarded..

Pulses raised with
each one
           harvested.

The dander was sodden,
               but still she needed to
know..

Does he love me, does he not...

And after every petal was gently
                                        discarded,

You thought that the only way
                 to no was to cut the stem..

Looking to his surroundings,
            a jar of nails...

How many had been planted here
                                               before..

Like a daffodil popping off,
                        she was out cold..

He'd been like a seed floating in the air,
       what some would catch to place a wish.
                          his was to land upon her jaw.

                                              He fell,
the roots that bonded him fallen.
            And he ran out in to the wilderness.

Floating in and out of consciousness,
                                       but he was free..

Doodles have more meaning ramblings
                                    than any art...

For they are the form
            of an active unbiased  mind.

                          Showing
                                    the
reality
               of those misshapen
                  misunderstood ramblings.

Till you step back
                          and delve deeper
and see the reality of originality

If my metaphors
were pennies in a jar..

I would have
       only a button

resting upon its side.

But though the holes
the sun does glimmer...

And four rainbows
              birth from those
hollow moments of contemplation ...

We don't need riches to show
             how colourful our words

can be..

But I do always wonder where the
                    button that held in my
analogies  
                              popped off too.
As  I'd eaten to many metaphors
                                             before lunch..

For some may think it of ******
                    but to protect the innocence
some blood may fall.

But when one is only bending
                            a knee to show,
that they may partly descend,
           but will always stand up taller.

We must see that some times the glasses,
               are tinted and we are in fact the extension
                                             of not our ideals
but ones who only see no further than there power.

Mindful of others, but always deeper in thought.
You call it the folly of an inquiring mind,

Concern some may say diving to deeply
unsure of where this may take me.
Regarding the complexity of a frame.
I just see more than those who
open a door, and only see the other side.
So if the the hinges hold it what was behind.
Is it wrong to have an interest in more
than what others see as normal without
yearnings to find out what was, what's more.

Where I wished to delve deeper was only
an excuse for others to want it to wither.
never would I intrude, but my searching
eventually causes some unintended pain.
So I relent, I'm curious of the outcome some say.

She wore a tiara
           of pearls

        dripping from
her forehead.

As one fell on her tongue,
   She licked  her lips..

Tastes like love...

I repeated every lesson,
          hearing every drowning
word...

Every syllable that was recast,
       but I never learnt a single...

done over,
                        duplicated..

Reproduced as another version of
              the same verse..


Everything was!
                refashioned,

redone, remade..
   In the fashion of what was before.

But even though I sat in every class..

        I never took a single word in..


The teachers changed, but I remembered
                     that one who made me resit


every lesson....

I cant see anything in this crammed space...

                    But hopefully one day some
one will cover me for a toilet break..

And I'll be peace....


I resit every lesson and still
                      all I see is deathly words..
                                       Never heard,
   but reverberating though hollow bones