VH ( / )

Another Row

As the words spilled out
more sour than my drunken bile
my heart rhythm beat
this - is - it
this - is - it
Stood by the Portland
the meter by the mile
you stand on the street
this - is - it
this - is - it
I want you to see
the confusion inside
as the queue moves along
this - is - it
this - is - it
I want us to be
not something we tried
You refuse what IS wrong

This is it

I look to you

This is it

Another row

This is it

£7.20

This is it

And my head on your tear streaked pillow.

by Vik Harley

Comments (1)

I am very interested in seeing what you do with this poem. I live by a railroad and the rhythm of your heart and (? the train/subway...) really intrigued me. Lines 17 and 18... will you work with them further?