Ian P. Badtrousers


With my bare hands
I turn smoke into pleasure.
A trick where
Under the weather, I'm washing distress
Off my dry face.


Where there's smoke, there's fire.
As the flames reach higher, and higher,
And higherβ€”
It becomes increasingly more obvious
How short I actually am.

Push the lever

Or be pulling strings
Interwoven with daze and confusion
As they set ablaze.
Thru the woes and flings,
To the saving grace!


Published: Monday, 13 Jan 2020

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