You're doing that stream-of-consciousness thing.
Goody. The disjointed words bubble up, like
Some sewage from out of a faulty drain, and
In it float pieces of refuse, images you seem
To hope will gain meaning when seen, but I've
Stood here for long enough, holding my nose,
And, like you, I'm lazy, I don't want to work,
So I'll leave you to wade in your odious river.
I worry it's poisoning me.
Comments about this poem (Aural Effluent by Lawrence Beck )
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