I call this poem...
STENCH
Swaying, rocking
In the metal and nylon arms
Of an uncaring mother
Peering at the blur
Houses, graffiti, more
Sleep weighs me down
Heavy eyelids, like
The stone lids of tombs
I stare dumbly outside
A metal womb with a view
But no!
A cruel steel crowbar
Jammed into the dull gap of my wakefulness!
Tired eyes fill
With griefless tears!
It is only 8am!
How could your underarms
Already smell so bad?
*bows politely to scattered applause*
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