The heart & the arse

From what dark source does my despair
take its primal rise?
Is it from the feeling
that this life is empty lies?

— I’m not sure, Captain Tandy;
never gave much thought to that.
Now could you shift your primal butt,
you’re sitting on my hat.

Is my pain a living thing,
a creature born of thought?
Have I nurtured darkness
in the cauldron of my heart?

— Now that one, I can answer.
I can reply to that:
It’s the pain your arse will feel,
if you don’t get off my hat.



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