Friday, 9 September 2011

poem for rain

                               so, there's rain.
                       it's mostly wet and grey.
                 it makes you cold and annoyed.
            if you go to a rainforest you'll get eaten by
             scorpions. which at least'll stop the cold.
              until rigor mortis sets in. you might get
                  buried somewhere cold though.
                     like antarctica. where there
                        are no ants or tics. or
                         siberia. where there
                          are some russians.
                           or maybe wales.
                                wales is

It's upside down. k

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