s p l i t t i n g


sing of sinking sand
crackles on the telephone
breaking up the band

leaves upon the breeze
summer on sabbatical

face another daze
exit left & left again
scribble in this maze

scramble like an egg
leg it if the time is up
down a powder keg

atoms in a bomb
broken biscuit overtures
fissure with aplomb

from the glue of you
making one & one from two
fuck it – toodleooh