POETIC TAROCK

XII

Many crappy returns

Somehow I manage to live. May the 1^st.

A little reminder of us being cursed.

Here are our candles and here is our cake.

I don't know how much more spit I can take.

Love yourself/lose yourself? What do I choose?

Neither. There's nothing to love or to lose.

I stand corrected! I seem somewhat sane...

I could be losing my mind once again.

Or twenty or God knows how many more times.

Wouldn't mind writing my very last rhymes.

I'll have not a glass but a bottle of gin

with plenty of pills as my very last sin.

»Dial nine-eleven. And call next of kin!

He just passed out!« Did I win? Did I win?

»Shame on you, Dutch The Clutch! It's Mr. Burns!

Beep beep* birthday boy! Many crappy returns!«

* Beep beep Richie!

Matjaž Lutarič - Lynx