Scheduled Simping
ah yes that scheduled simping,
Sunday morning, hungover n’
horny, where one wank won’t
do it and the dehydration and
a takeaway and the shame and
second wank and often the
weight of the blues setting in.
but Monday welcomes a fresh
menagerie. then there is a
love letter of endings I
never expected in the pages
of a Carson McCullers book
from the NI lass who’s
impossible to forget.
I’m feverish, get the paracetamol.
’cos spring snogs summer pure slop.
today I feel like a boy who got
his pants pulled down
at the public pool.
I gape at the long running sitcom
suddenly going into syndication.
Horror Sleaze Trash 