I found a condom on my window sill. This is a poem.
How safe is the universe?
Why do pigeons stare?
I saw two pigeons fighting for a single condom
The battle for the rubber, to be safer than the other
Why are condoms thrown away?
Why are they airborne?
Alas! they are thin, lightweight and never torn
lest they break, the moon will shake
forgive me , says the balloon maker
I am sensible, I am sick
Nostradamus does’t need a toothpick
The rubber will not endure a fall
I see time pass by
I count the needles in the eye
and suddenly, the poem goes off topic
into a land unknown, with folded arms I sit on the throne
tiny little milk packets
Now now, it’s getting grose
read the poem, angry nose
Aah fuck just end it