Tonight's Poet Corner: Dripping
Dripping by Belinda Roddie I'm sorry, love - it's gotten everywhere. In fact, a think a smidge of it is matted right in your hair. Here, a quick shower will do the trick. Stuff's slick enough to be washed straight down the drain. Mania's a hell of a cerebral drug, and sometimes, it spurts out like an oil pipe's burst (Fuck you, Keystone XL). At least it doesn't cling like oil, just like how I cling to you. And all my bowtie-sporting neuroses run in circles around their cubicles, snorting coke through coffee straws and screaming, spilling java everywhere. More apologies, darling - just means more mess to clean up tonight.