Saturday, June 25, 2005

Hospital Bed by David Addison

At first, the fearful panic so great.
Jesus...no, paralysed from this date?
No more to walk, no more to run,
Life is over, destroyed, now its all done.
I can't feel my legs, a whimper, a sob,
Natural movement, taken, I have been robbed.
How did it happen, attacked by a brute?
It occured to him then, a terrible truth.
Legs were fine, fit for marching bands,
Someone had come and stolen his hands.

5 comments:

  1. Rob, really now, get a fucking job. You're everything thats wrong with America today.

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  2. Oh fan-fucking-tastic. You have gone insane.

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  3. You've got to watch out for the hand stealers.

    Thems words in Beatles songs AND the Holy Bible - the unabridged, un-fucked with version - about one and the same.

    To write about hand stealers is an observation most holy. To experience hand stealers is Divine [shit-swallowing, dead as a doornail kind].

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