Hunger or Habit
In my minds eye surely it’s skewed,
But I can’t fish out the bad eggs from the shells,
The baby’s flushed down with the bathwater,
And I’m so utterly screwed.
Clean the seat, hide it beneath the fibres,
But still, there’s Scarcity, and Squalor beneath the gown,
I glance back to see if you’ve noticed
I need you to pull me back, and lead me to the cure for being a miser.
Is your flame so malleable, because mine keeps giving ,
You’re 10 times my age, Spirit, they’re all older,
But least resistance is the smoothest path,
So pity their thinly veiled tact of acting none the wiser.
The beauty’s all yours,
It’s in your eyes not mine.
It doesn’t reflect the light,
So I never got to be the beholder.
Tell me you’re concerned by our lack of knowledge,
But you didnt make that cut,
And where were you
During my four AM forage?
And now you’ve etched your memoirs into my brain; that’s a users manual.
An old pro, I’m a jack of this trade,
And you’re the master of the flies on the wall,
Prodding me whilst laying low.
You think you’re the knowing eyes in my kitchen,
Yet you ask me: is this hunger? Is this habit?
But we’re cut from different reams of cloth,
It isn’t even the same fabric.
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