Curtains
How vain To want to join the ranks of illiterate dead, Who are written about but can't read, And who write nothing With their slack hands.
No one to entertain, They crouch quietly under beds, Or hang with the coats on the backs of doors, Bothering the hinges Unsexed, bored, and uncertain.
It's a mug's game, Hovering in hallways with bowed heads, Trying to pick up pens, unable to feed, Fingers limp like fringes On vulgar curtains.
Awesome.
@William. started
London Fixed Gear and Single-Speed is a community of predominantly fixed gear and single-speed cyclists in and around London, UK.
This site is supported almost exclusively by donations. Please consider donating a small amount regularly.
Curtains
How vain
To want to join the ranks of illiterate dead,
Who are written about but can't read,
And who write nothing
With their slack hands.
No one to entertain,
They crouch quietly under beds,
Or hang with the coats on the backs of doors,
Bothering the hinges
Unsexed, bored, and uncertain.
It's a mug's game,
Hovering in hallways with bowed heads,
Trying to pick up pens, unable to feed,
Fingers limp like fringes
On vulgar curtains.