I’m looking like a Topshop still
With the aid of the tail end of the latest hurricane
Trying to beat the rain
In our little wager; a race to the latest cafe
Winters in full swing, and a hot chocy’s calling me
I accept a valiant 2nd place, as I open the door
As come face first into a toasty wall
As I wring out the mop ontop of my head
Typically hours early for BSL class
Might aswell try and pop out some verses
I bump into a family friend
A friendly little reminder of my progress
“Got some gigs, no job, feeling allright I guess”
I reflect after on the answers given
Yeah I guess things are agonisingly allright
In between a crash and the next spike
The culprit for the last one was me girl
Finding a tastier tongue down south
It’s been way too long hence to use that excuse
I dunno how to get up on my own two feet
I guess a good brew in my bellies a start
Get home, have some ice cream
Check the profile for replies, but probably none
In a novel they’ll skip days like these
Neither a dying victim
Neither a lustful symbol
Neither a glamorous Icon
Just another day of not knowing what to do
Domestic Poetry 