My week in words (17 at a time)

Summer has been poo
And to make things even worse
Now I have a cold.

And just like last year
Summer can be summed up thus:
Absolute pig-shit

England is too wet.
I must move somewhere hotter
Or risk suicide.

Turgid clouds above.
Riots pollute our cities
And health deserts me.

My friendly GP
Says ‘it’s just a summer cold’
But I feel like Death

Antibiotics
Are no cure for ugliness
Or MRSA.

Sometimes my haiku
Fill me with a sense of shame
And embarrassment

Poetry is death
Hatred is a form of love
Life is just dreaming

I’m delirious
I have a temperature
And I’m writing shite

Time for me to sleep
The curtains of dark must draw
Upon my sore eyes….

RC 13-8-11