Mens sana innit
(I mean, it isn’t.)
Thick-thick-thick
Sludgy-pudgy-fludgy
There seems no point
Or end to it.
Healthy mind? Oh, well
I think that went away a while
Ago. Ago. Aggro.
Cider-lager-vodka
There always was more
And that did it.
I forgot to turn on the power
To the ol’ washer-dryer
Stink-stink-stink
Gruds-shirts-socks.
It’s chugging on now
And that is it:
The zenith of my productive
Ability today. But who gives
A fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks
And all the other swears
And fuck this shit.
Mens sana? What about it?
I’m not sure I even want it.
Tick-tick-tick
Hours, seconds, minutes
The end is gonna come along
So why fight it?
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