I thought I would be happy
The day the dreams stopped
Where I am late for school.
And it is certainly convenient
That the lady at Asda stopped
Asking me to show an ID.
But surely life isn’t, now,
Just one long state of
Unbecoming: hair, teeth,
And then the thing itself.
The thought’s enough to make
Quite the hoarder out of me.
Sat on a stack of finasteride,
Buying my ciders at 2pm
To catch that one trainee
Who’s still quite generous
With the whole “Challenge 25”.
