"Rock Hay"
Your twenty yesterdays in the day before yesterday?
Dreaming in rocks made of hay?
While imbibing scotch on the rocks?
As you try and try to get your rocks off? In your socks?
To the ticktocks of your heartbeats' clocks?
The two of you should be ashamed!
Damned in flame!
Defamed!
In your mother-in-law's bed.
Then soaked in her bath to soothe my tired head.
Instead of figuring out that she will surely drop dead...
When she arrived home nothing was said.
And surely enough she dropped dead.
Right into her wet bed!
By Anonymous Bosch
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