(Don't answer the question - just read my d**n poem)
Philip Larkin - TOADS
First verse his, remainder mine - no idea of his verses, so decided on free-form for continuation
Why should I let the toad work
Squat on my life?
Can't I use my wit as a pitchfork
And drive the brute off?
_______________________
He sits in malevolent silence
Overseeing my every move.
Blinking and l*****g his eyeballs
Intimidation his torturer's tool.
His warty compelling presence
in the dank corner of my office room
Keeps my nose to the grind-stone
Disfiguring my promising youth.
Why should I let the toad work
Squat on my life?
The alternative is life-long leisure,
idleness and sloth.
Those disgusting fat slimy slugs
mating and multiplying
inside my head.
(don't actually believe that - but was trying to convince myself)
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