Brunch Cannon

The clumsy poem you wrote about something you love The list you made to better organise the things you left undone Directions to a soho eatery where you got too fucking drunk The list of heartfelt gifts compiled on christmas eve The ghosts of lines through items visible five pages underneath Bisecting and later confusing orders for a chinese meal Four chicken halls might be the start of a new masterpiece Find a melody and keep it in your head Buy a glockenspiel make music from your bed Scream your lungs to shards singing words your heart admits Are futile and will fail but we'll make the worst of it It's cold outside, it's raining there Stay inside, there's nothing for you here