Head Pressed to Floor

After Porridge Radio


Lover’s Quarrel by A.B. Wenzel (1908)

I put on my hazmat suit,

grab the extinguisher,

assume the position

this storm’s a lingerer.

Tape up my windows,

sandbag my soul,

fill up the bathtub

wait for your thunder rolls.

The weather will worsen,

I’ve seen your leaves upturn before.

There’s no end to what I can endure

with ears covered smartly,

head pressed to floor.

Β© 2022 |Β K.Hartless

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