Licking metal off the rain

Not a sniff 

Not a crumb

Not a look 

Not a nibble 

Not a smidge

at work 

Going bald 

Getting fat 

Growing old 

Being a doormat 

Getting sold

In the wrong format 

Shriveling 

Diminishing 

Reticulating 

Doing what I'm told 

My lips 

Taste sweet 

Oily 

I don't know why 

Somebody blessed 

The hard bristles 

Slitting my chin

Like ektoskeletal splinters

Weed widing my tongue

Punctuating the softness 

I can taste the residue 

Of honey 

As I'm licking my mouth 

Like a mystic ghost train

Licking metal off the rain. 

16/10/17