touron the bumple vein horizon, and me vertical horror adjacent toa girl full o'questions I couldn't hope to answer you you you.. answer me this (not 'why?') but surely just 'when?' hen.
'now cow' she says. silly moo.
oNLY IN jest would I test the air with such bovine snaps. I love you too, ever so indeed thought and word but still.. bestial even with the best intentions. It's all I can do not to... and then what? Hold me tight like a friday, wink into city shadows up alleys after Ali (the lad in the Kilaman video] fucking up the weekend in fearless pacts with the night. The all new rattly old shambles mobile racing up Shoot-up Hill, Kilburn.
I know you worry as much as everyone except my mum, and my finger nails the most unclean part of me and continuing apace I fancy
sans the stagnant poses of the very very ill
a Libertine bound to doom : not this one. Unshackled, and I chose as I decide and my will all mine. Bruv.. poura the wine. Rumour and apocalyptic slurs are the terrible devourers of my identity. Beneath colourless and scentless flowers and stunted unmysterious trees all them remain in the rubble their remains under the sod of such natural weird things
VAGABONDAGE
The catastrophes the poet has suffered - and his muse she skipped about his crouched body on the little chair singing her own songs. Like a foundering ship I was about to plunge my flesh in the sombre waters of debauchery.. my flesh and once conquering spirit.. like a shy one suddenly, like when you wrap up all movements in a duvet after coming too soon and then waiting as if for another bus to come and take us all somewhere familiar and yet undeniable in its pleasurable magnificence
did I write that? right..
PARIS
woman should have quite dominated him again, and did too. In an interval of sobriety . Nothing else responsible, spon is blee spoon is bleed
how was he ever to drag himself out of an abyss where even a master pretend-friend skilled actor liar's supplications were powerless to prevent him from plunging - only a true heart could stop him and then did. The confusion s relegated to obscene levels....and is therea last degree of degradation? if so how far off it was this unfortunate lucky?
that which sheltered me belted me senseless.
witness the shame of having to live
witness the game of the life we have
nu rules too many rules
too many hangups hung upon fooks
MY DEAR FRIEND
you will not be angry.. in reality i have been working on our behalf
beggar of the sunken road obsessed with memory and the blank page
and the beggar knows very well that he will pray
but the devil would wager that he would kill
roll 'em Jonno!
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