The Smell Of Catastrophe

I can smell the catastrophe
Stuck to your shoes
It’s on the tip of your tongue
As you talk
The volume of your voice
Your self-interest
Needling my mind
I ask politely
For you to fuck off
Or else take a number
While I roll up my sleeves
For I’ve had my fill
Of people like you
And I’ve decided
To start punching things

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.