We all want to slap boredom in the face farting – fuming splash of muddy rain today hits the scars of yesterday the sun shines again and the sex is plain dry so we all watch the sky instead. Blood red is the colour of my shoe as I dismiss your gentle-man-hood you gradually slip and melt into my custom made pot of grease stinking of anxiety. But you come out of it looking straight into my bust and I know you might – only just – set me off balance. |