if one fine morning
the world just ate itself?
Without any warning
no space-time continuum
or those awful jobs
or worrying ‘bout the self.
No more boredom in a room
or cleaning clothes and washing delph.
No more hangovers or love disasters.
No more Birthdays or Christmas days.
No more crap or walking on crap.
No appliances breaking or dripping taps.
The ultimate end of everything
must be all and something.
For one, no more no sleeping at night.
Why doesn’t it just go and eat itself?
Maybe now it’s working up an appetite.