Only fruit.

I was mean all week
Through lack of sleep
And Ribena still on my lips
And the pill I took
Which made me cold sweat
In the Thai
You thought it was the pan naeng.

To escape the bile
Of your only fruit,
You cut clear across Western Road
The 49 to Moulsecoomb,
What a way to go
Sluiced against the glass
Hair undone

Face smacked in a mask
Of disappointment
Akin to when I was 12
And went with Kelly
To hang outside The Red Lion
You couldn't laugh about it
Still can't.