Written by: Oratile Ndimande
PG Warning: Strong Language used, PG is advised.
It is the end of a weak attempt at saving change.
Instead, I’ve spent all my fucks a week too early,
And I’ve had to sip on a mug of bitter, black broke
with a teaspoon of badly-off to start my mornings.
It’s the end of a week of days, dazed
without enough will power to roll on my under-arms.
He left me spent and with only a little more than his two scents,
dazed for days.
Perhaps if someone could lend me a few fucks?
I can pay back with a little interest.
I could use them on my feed of filtered, fleeting plates,
and masked, sanded beach days and bottled up “Moëg”
It’s the end of the end, the end of the month.
I’m waiting for a text, a signal
That allows me to have a meagre drink on Friday,
and a jar of beetroot salad on Sunday.
Then, I’ll pay you back with little interest.
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