LAY LINES.

Some demon was Simon
Whose scratched back reminded
Me of that lass from Batley, where they
Must build them tough as it’s so far
Down a hill as to be hellish;
It’s permanently nighttime there,
Well in the working men’s club anyway
Which only has windows on the inside.

She took me home from a
Morley pub one evening, after we’d
Passed that glance across the table which
Excludes the company you’re with,
And upon arriving and being
Smuggled in proceeded to tear
Into me; collecting enough skin beneath
Her nails to leave a fair impression.

And by the morning she had
The audacity to ask me to hurt
Her, so I shifted as quickly as possible,
But a week later in the mystical
Glades of the Lake District
I had to tell my girlfriend the
Marks were the result of raw bedding,
And that was the worst line of all.