Wahala 16.01.18

I went to sleep to 

your thousand and one  sorrows

awoke  to your troubles

cured your disease 

perfected my  disease

each others secret

you said 

you were  a tattoo 

on me soul

no

scabs on me arm

I passed you 

tonight 

at the hotel

and went

 to the bar

WAHALA: trouble, annoyance and headache, all rolled into one