The Nightmare

Slumped over myself
over a desk, barely making it
to each key.
Don't get too excited
about this one,
it's being made up
as I go along.
Funnily enough,
the chance of me getting
to erotica
before I tire
is pretty limited
so I apologise
for the forthcoming upset
that I may cause:

'Throbbing cock
in begging arse'
That will keep some happy
for the time being.

Last night
I dreamt that a relative
of mine
was physically dead
in their bed, but still able
to watch and hear
the tea party that went on
around her bed.

I did that fucking rhyming
thing again, and now Ive stepped
on the toes of some hooded 'poet'
who doesn't like profanity
except his repetitive use of
the 'f' word.

Basically, if I'm honest
I'm only here because
there's no paper,
and I have that firey hangover...
The one where you either want
to rape a stripper,
watch a stripper
or tear the paper to shred
with some averagely worded
frustration, that feels good
at the time.

I'm pretty much done...
I think... but before I go,
just to make sure
I've shot my last
cum-load of rambling
nonsense across the screen
I ask you to remember what Lawrence said:
'Don't be on the side of the angels,
it's too lowering.'