Bottled Breath

Bottled breath

Loves darkened halls,

Where the misfits run

And the panties fall,

It’s a bad line

On a good idea.

 

Call the ref

So we can fake a call,

He can fly in

And pretend to solve

The way that things appear

 

My nature won't deliver

So here I abide

in the company

of fragmented revelations

by my side

Those bad lines made it clear

 

That you should stop your gawkin’

I know where I am

I may be drunk

But you madame

What’s the rest?

I’ll soon be sober

I think I’ve lost the bread crumbs

So I will rest

and wait to be older.