Clubbing in Nottigham

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short one

Submitted: November 04, 2011

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Submitted: November 04, 2011

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My Face is dry
My balls are sour
I cannot feel my head
No more.
But 'why?' you ask,
All I can say
Is that I have no notion.

 

My shoes are glued
Down to the floor
I slept beside
A dirty whore.
But 'why?' you ask,
I think I know:
I must have gone to Ocean

 

 


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