Smelling like..
The skunk.
Am I drunk?
Lived like..
The punk..
Slept while..
Stars sunk.
Through the clunk.
A smelly dried flower..
Underneath the trunk.
Too old…
To flunk.
Trembling lips..
To a hazy smoke..
Layering up to choke.
While a window..
Peeps through the key hole.
Go home…
Don’t be late..
For the roads don’t wait..
For hardships to accolade.
Kindness has sunk.
Songs haphazardly..
Musical bizarre..
One’s not a monk.
Stop pretending..
In the graveyard..
Of rusted junk.


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