Thursday, 8 December 2011


I live in a crayon house
With a peaked roof
And a chain smoking chimney
And square windows
On a square frame
And a door
That is big
And red
With bits of white
And a smudgy yellow handle
That doesn’t open
To let me inside
Where I have no possessions
So I sit under my tree
In the shade of its full canopy
With my stick legs crumpled
And my stick hands on my head
Falling forever towards the edge
On every side

My life is shit
But I can’t stop smiling

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