I lie on the sofa
Telling me about myself.
Little old me, belittling it all.
Dead lonely, a coffin elf.
The first thing that enters my head
As word associations process the data fed;
What comes to mind with “the ties that bind”?
Do-it-yourself, and the fear of being left behind.
Do I play the victim? Would I say I wallow?
Well, I couldn’t say but I’ll come back tomorrow.
Same time, same place.
Just hope I don’t get off me face.
I lie on the sofa.
Smoking away, whacked.
I might die from a fag-end.
Anyone know a good quack?