Whenever I Listen  

I hear rhythms; tears of a Dickhead

He elects to select when his wits end.

Just to sit and sift shit

then his shift ends.

“If”s waxed, then wane into “When”

just face it, you’re tempted.

The day’s been saved, but only if he lends it.

That bliss in the rhythm

Listen

It’s the trickle of the Tyskie

he sips it

Depends on the shovels

The deep end glistens

with litter-picked wisdom

He figures it’s a sickness...

when it’s a given he’s a

Pisshead

Which one?

Spot the difference

Quick! Abuse your face
A sucker for the trigger

Getting wise to heart palpitations
beat rates rise.

Who shall we blame? “The way I was raised”
not even close, but easier to say.

Click triggers

Flick that switch.

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