Friday, 19 November 2010

Just Remember

For A. T

There is an abundance of sorry lost cunts
Bewildered by ineptitude,

Some have no hands and live with mummy
Daddy just wants to get through the weekend papers,

Some hibernate in boudoir boo hoo's
Floors littered with damp hope and hunger,

Pictures of assfucking, thoughts of cum soaked
tissues and jazz mag pages stuck with paste

The paste of lonely masturdators, these kids with tainted
Egos haven't pissed themselves or stubbed a cigarette
Out on their arms, haven't traded their heart with a
Woman only willing to act like a sad cow about to be
Cut into dinner sized meals

If you thought getting caught on enemy lines in a war zone
Would be a full time nightmare
Get yourself out there, go to bars and work and school
Walk in Autumn and meet a brazen feline

Pet her, buy her a three star tin of cat food, a velvet collar
With a name and number and home address
And she'll still scratch gashes on your cheeks and
Claw one of your fucking eyes out

She'll wander off and come back purring through the flap
And nuzzle against you when you have low migranes
You'll see her and hear that familiar meow
On walls around any city in the world.

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