Wasting away
I wrote a poem about my unrequited love
And they told me I was clever.
I tried to sell my picture to the journal
And they told me they would never
Pay me, oh no.
Here I sit
Wasting away.
Drinking champagne and happy in my furrow.
Oh no,
Wasting away and waiting for the day
When I slip away and end the monotony,
Wasting away
Waiting the day.
esterspears 
urban blues
May 29, 2012
with love to the rolling waves of monotony.
here i sit, beer in hand wasting time away.
staring out the window at the factory belching smoke. below the dried up river bed where they bleached the land and scoured the ground of lime and life to make a brass from muck.
once, a life ago, my unrequited love departed and left me thinking i was worthy of the rank of broken hearted, but the rattle and the poisonous hum of the breathless machine that stands outside the door, reminds my weary being that what i thought an aching heart was just the indigestion of disappointment passing like a fart through my soul. and do i give a
estpix
July 18, 2012
Nice one Lou urban blue, perhaps it’s no coincidence that fart rhymes with art
Matt Kirwan
January 20, 2013
So working for newspapers is glamorous.
Sly Bailey makes me feel quite amorous.
They tell me i’ll get £25 for a set.
An offer we all live to regret.
Prestigious my arse, go fuck yourself you farce.
A shit storm should brew but Leveson flew.
Don’t waste your day, don’t waste away
Drink your champagne and escape Brookes her fellow crooks and heed only your advice.