54 – Eternity On The Number 14

Poem number 54
Eternity On The Number 14
Your dulcet tones waft to my ear
Upon a cloud of last night’s beer
We’re on the bus, you’ve got the aisle
There’s no escape, I try to smile
But as your voice drones on and on
I fantasise that you are gone
On holiday perhaps, or worse
Perhaps you’re riding in a hearse
A coffin lid above your head
Still droning on although you’re dead
But when I look across I see
You’re still there sitting next to me
Your voice a buzzing, gnawing whine
That saws my bones in random lines
I close my eyes and hold my breath
Your voice goes on, I pray for death.


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