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Literature Text
Tear yourself from your boundaries, o my metropolis,
and drift with the graceful slowness of continents to my arms; though
the others look not upon you, for
you are black with smoke
and sharp with the tongues of your children,
I rejoice, for my eyes have their full run
of your rough and uncouth fierceness.
Come to my arms, o Manchester, and fit your city limits
round my roads, your slums to my city centre. You make me desire the filth of the streets
and the grey of bleak great winter skies above bleaker little lives.
Dirty me.
and drift with the graceful slowness of continents to my arms; though
the others look not upon you, for
you are black with smoke
and sharp with the tongues of your children,
I rejoice, for my eyes have their full run
of your rough and uncouth fierceness.
Come to my arms, o Manchester, and fit your city limits
round my roads, your slums to my city centre. You make me desire the filth of the streets
and the grey of bleak great winter skies above bleaker little lives.
Dirty me.
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A slightly reworked version of a piece that I banished to Scraps a while back, in more poetic form. A love song to Manchester, because I'm a nerd.
© 2014 - 2024 candyexorcist
Comments2
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It is pretty dirty 
Lovely words, I think I liked the old version but this is great too, very flowing.
Lovely words, I think I liked the old version but this is great too, very flowing.