Pieces of 8

With our rings

Of gold 

And our hearts

Of silver

And our lead boots

Waiting

To trudge 

Out to sea 

We pour through

The gaps

Spill through 

The fissures

Spitting and

Snarling

And bleeding

We glare 

At the pirates

As we shuffle

Forwards

To collect 

Our pieces of 

Eight 

And we punch 

Our drunkeness 

Into the faulty 

Machine 

Mechanically logging in 

To the clockwork

We all so despise

And waste 

Another day

Running in circles

Away from ourselves

Hiding in holes

Away from the light

Until last orders 

Is called

And we

Can

Check

Out

Unsatisfied

Unfulfilled 

Broken into pieces

Of our own

Undoing

 

Why do you think

She put roses

In our

Garden

◄ In the first place

Pushing up daisies ►

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