TIRED WORKAHOLIC
By Marius Buys
I yearn to flay me down, under a warm duvet,
to my brains very own club prive.
Oh how to end this dreary, post work malaise ...
To which, I quaff a mead, sweet mothers milk that it is,
and cut loose my eyelids from their heavy, self imposed, locks...
and to stop this silly strain to shut up shop.
