The Headband Politically I am Mr. Correctness, converse politely without edges, carry my muzzle on a straight nose as decent men from head to toes. The headband around my mane guards successfully my brain, that my language will not fail and woun't tip up a rusty nail. When from a children's book I read some story of old stock, at a few places I gently cough for a word to be skimmed off. I woun't tear iron bars in halves, don't wish censors to their graves, probe all to be safe and sound, else I'm stamped into the ground. Preferably I just shut up, that lets me stand up top: I elude the shit storm blowing and pangs to my worn feelings.
back Ilka-Maria 2015