Better than the blogs your mother used to make.

Under Pressure

Subtitle: "Dn dn dn da-da dn dn"

To be performed, or it loses its kick...

* * * * * * * * * *

Old men speak of time as a fast-rushing river
That naught can staunch the flow
That actions, once done, are lost in forever
Where no fish's wishing can go

It's this simple thought that through my being pervades
This idea as I sit here and gather
- in the subtle unquiet of a shopping arcade - 
It's my actions alone that haunt me

And my bladder

A coke
One coke
One super-sized coke

It's pressing, is this irritation
This subtle, southward stimulation
This single tingling sensation
Of frequent fluid inspiration
That grows with every rumination 
On what bore out this situation
Until this liquid aberration
This heinous kidney saturation
This vindictive lubrication
Makes well-known my limitation
The crowds are split in desperation
Borne upon my excitation
That makes me scream this exclamation

"Wet! Wet! Oh, I do not want to get wet!"

No, not yet. I can't get wet
No, not in front of Nicolette
This isn't something she'll forget
And I haven't paid these jeans off yet
Oh the pain in holding back this jet
This ocean in my lone pipette
That makes me squeal and so regret
I ever took that drinking bet
When suddenly my eyes are met
By that flattened male silhouette
That stalls my moistened epithet

And yet
And yet
And yet...

There, in moth-balled gladness, stands
My nemesis, perennial
That so to mock my idle gland
Has picked - of three - the centre urinal

Oh devilish fiend! Oh drying blight!
You know the code - this isn't how it's done!
I can't choose left, I can't pick right
Synchronised whizzing... isn't... fun...

Stall one: Stall one is occupied
Stall two: Is somewhere something died
Stall three: There's ... water... on the floor
Stall four: Is one without a door
Stalls five and six are joined by holes
Stall seven's clogged with toilet rolls
And seemingly my pain to scoff
Stall eight the cops have cordoned off

Time is a river, it flows but one way
I'm very much acquainted with that feeling now today

So, Middle-Man, Lord of the Stance
Contender in this damp campaign
It seems we're forced to dance this dance
On the one hand honour, on the other... well... rain...

Yes, now I see, it's you and me
Robbed as I was of privacy
With this bursting fear that you might see
Might turn to watch me while I pee
I'm filled with (in part) jealousy
Of this, your unzipped liberty
Your undisturbed nephrology
Your bathroom camaraderie

That makes me wish, that makes me yearn
To bow before this holy urn
To have my shot, to have my turn
Each step I step towards you burns

My little bells, they give a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
With every breath a sharp intake
He turned, the Demon, and thus he spake:

"Hey bro. How's it going?"

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