The numpty has a down week.
My mind is a whirling and filling with fog.
My house is a mess and is smelling like dog.
I need a spring clean but my joints have me beat,
so I’m kicking bits of fluff underneath the nearest seat.
I am hobbling like a cripple and feeling quite bleak
The cortisone jab will help in a couple of weeks.
Emotions spurting skyward like my sons water gun.
This thing called love ain’t working out and almost has me done.
Childcare problems cuffudle me and make me proper want to shout.
So to drone out thoughts when the meds kick I will get the hoover out.
Tonight though, I will nurse my thoughts then kick them back in time.
Whilst I sit upon my arse and down a massive glass of wine.