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letra de bird's eye penis - bert honour

avoiding the realities of life by writing a pointless poem doused in self-pity
translucent bottles parade the shelves. drained, standing side-by-side
their tacky bottoms are now far too cliché to be considered profound
reluctantly, staring from above at the often-viewed bird’s-eye p-n-s
undoubtedly, the saddest angle imaginable, though certainly not the scariest
wondering whether it will soon bе consigned to the history books
along with the strainеd six-pack, a remanence of s-x appeal, and a full head of hair

reminiscing of heady and carefree days when hangovers were a bearable affliction
and night time bedroom-based rigidity was all but assured
bags under reddened eyes were considered a temporary phenomenon
an existential anxiety has now well-and-truly burrowed into the holes vacated
by football, punk-rock and an undeserved feeling of self-assurance
important memories fade with the continued flowing of time and whisky
and are replaced with an unwelcome, heavily filtered, yet still hurtful, nostalgia

whitened hair now sprouts in incorrect, and increasingly unreachable, places
patience has grown as thin as the joke that now covers my irritable scalp
weighing up the vice by calorie-counting the alcohol that’s slowly destroying me
the bathroom scales are to be feared and the mirror best avoided if possible
he’ll inevitably only scowl and grunt back at you for what you’ve let him become
but remember without that view from above, it might become obligatory
it’s a sad day when the bird’s eye p-n-s angle is no longer a viable option

appreciate the sight while you still can

- bert honour

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