Thursday 28 April 2016

The Subconscious Basement.

face it, it's probably rubbish

There’s a name
Annoying my brain,
I can't articulate or explain.
Not yet
Driving me insane ,
I’m unable to refrain
From trying to make it plain
Wanting to say it clearly,
Like summer rain
Or a bubble of champagne,
I’m certain
It’s not Burton
Yet behind the curtain
Hanging uncertain
Over my thoughts.
The waiting is hurting.
Is Frustration
And the knowledge that patience
Is a virtue,
And complacent
Leaves me lost in the basement

Of my subconscious.


1 comment:

London Joe said...

wrapper rap. respect to thee