Starbuck, What do you hear?

Judgement and a tired soul,
That’s what I hear.

Loads and loads of forwards,
Endless group suggestions,
That’s that else I hear.

Of multicoloured sweaters,
and the white tubes:
scented with stories of yesterday.
That’s the other thing, I hear.

Low rumbling,
a hesitant anxious heart gasps,
dawn is fighting to break through,
the rumble transcends into a crashing thud,
it’s nothing but the rain…

…grab your gun…



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