This is probably the first attempt at poetry I’ve made since high-school. So, for a good laugh, read it:

Running hands through my hair,
Filled with corporeal despair

This negligent corpse of a father
Lies rotting there;
Square, prone on the table;
Unrecognisable, still

This form, we share – it will be the death of us…
Curse all you want,
Conversion to the world is hard

Inane thoughts run at a thousand times velocity
Felonious behaviour will be reputed
When you stare your maker in the eye