Squeezing the Damp Tea Towel to Its Final Few Drips - Crywank

Many moons of moping over changes I won’t make

My motor mouth runs from fear of making more mistakes

Implicate myself through false guilt and voice breaks

Jilted speech, inspecting feet, waiting for an answer you are

But me sway silently staring into space, safe place, headspace

Hardly, cerebral argie-bargie

Contemplating harder than when you’re sat alone at a party

Maybe not, come happen these knots

Many tangents gallop, maggot dragon dripping in smegma

Fragments of stagnant talent, the advent of forgetting passion

Pageant queen come happen a magnet, drift baggage

Find only a planet of absence

Abscess on your gadget or garment

More substance in silence

Remind me not to write again