Tuesday, 16 February 2010

no score draw

its freezing in the garden with a sneaky cigarette
its the wolfshead in the kitchen
tiny blood marks in our bed
its the way your freckles shift when you smile
its the way your drink runs out quicker than anyone else
don't let up from your answer
i can't get up
show them scholars what for
hold it down until we're all for no more
and the ash is on our sleeves and not in our throats

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