i fain would draw this blue fog
but have only the red ink of shame
it burns through my sullen veins
i fain would deface my skin
but it’s like a brittle parchment
it crumbles ‘neath needle’s acerb touch
i fain would drown them all in bile
but hide behind what they want of me
my head pulses like a tumour
i fain would discard my failed life
but angst has drained resolve from my bones
i wait, days full up with hospital pudding
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
unbolt me 
Awww
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😝
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🤭
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Very well done, Tony. You seem to be on the nineteen-century track lately.
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I take that as a real compliment, Dolly. Thank you! It’s kind of fun playing with language that way. 🙂
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Of course it’s a compliment, Tony. It’s quite enjoyable.
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To feign fain is to deceive a pudding head into thinking it is more than sugar, corn starch, and feints like counter blows that in exercising them result in fainting not so willingly. Pudding is the villain.
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Quite!
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