Petes Poetry
Escape
To dream a dream,
Like a pound of green.
A packet of morphine.
The pain, i'm not so keen.
I dream of bliss,
that's my obsession of piss.
I dream of gold linings,
yet myself I am blinding.
I dream, yet it's just an escape from reality.
My brain, my liver, my kidneys, not sure which organ will be the first fatality.
So it's all in my head, the will and want for something unreal.
Maybe a bottle, maybe a potion, something good to steal.
Maybe nothing, maybe numb, just what I crave to feel.
Peter Riddoch.
Like a pound of green.
A packet of morphine.
The pain, i'm not so keen.
I dream of bliss,
that's my obsession of piss.
I dream of gold linings,
yet myself I am blinding.
I dream, yet it's just an escape from reality.
My brain, my liver, my kidneys, not sure which organ will be the first fatality.
So it's all in my head, the will and want for something unreal.
Maybe a bottle, maybe a potion, something good to steal.
Maybe nothing, maybe numb, just what I crave to feel.
Peter Riddoch.
