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poem 1


we live in a house with some brasilian chick who’s under investigation for gbh or some shit. victor’s setting up escort services in Angel with his rider mate andtwo 50 year old polish fuck ups. i’m xmas shopping for eric clapton and his wife leila something. my girlfriend has just moved alongside Thames and she doesn’t drink her tea by the river. i mean what the fuck?

i was careful, that s why i m

only bleeding from the skin

building a relationship

from bottom up

and so on

yeah

bye

x

silva jaguar


there’s a psychotherapist computer named eliza or something who asks the same shitty questions you’re too uncomfortable asking yourself and the magic of this whole shit is that yeah! you answer back, it’s the century of the avatar, you fuck yourself every time she chokes on your methamphetamine crazed cock of yours, not huge, true, but more than enough to get the job done. it’s all in the head she says. so where did the pheromones stop talking, i wonder.

silva jaguar. that’s what Toby texted me, Toby’s  Jason the Second, it’s like a legacy carefully nurtured and passed along with the top-up sim card storing phone numbers of all the junkies out there – East London foreva! – and then it struck me: foreva is silva, the guy and his car, an X type – still a jaguar, silver, waiting for me on the other side of the East India station and I try to remember the last time I met Jason and whether it was on lake side or shop side.I wonder if this illiteracy is the driving force of how languages evolve. The new guy.

few minutes later I fly

my baby’s got an atom bomb twenty two megaton

yeah. it only takes a second to have it all figured out, innit?

slackline # London

 

 

 

 

panix


yeah

we got locked in the park

at night

luckily enough, I had my instant fire with me

so we feasted with the pigeons we force fed the day before

 

instant fire just add water

instant fear just add weather

instant wear just add feather

Title


yeah. I guess it’s about not wasting time. that’s either saving time in hope of increasing interest rates on deposits and bonds and shit or just using it to its full extent erratically, A-9 suited style, shades on, broken teeth squeezing barely burning straight cuts, yeah, straight cuts, it’s more than one, it’s two ’cause that’s how wild it can get

I guess it’s about not wasting time. and food. I haven’t eaten in 48 hours. had some beers, some shit sauv blanc yeah? blame it on me and some sailor jerry with shit coke. fruits. some fruits. nectarines and seedless grapes. roommate Vic keeps away from seedless fruits. I guess I’ll have to either earn more to afford better fruits or grow them myself. I guess it’s about not wasting time.

 

getting there


in spite of all the disruptions, severe delays, special offers, advanced settings, foot fetish wet dreams, open end worlds, misheard lyrics, misspelled names, mistaken selves, ranges, fixed limits, well-established checkpoints, insufficient credit on your fucking Oyster

of course all bitterness comes from what’s left when all the sweetness has gone sour. you need the sugar to keep it sweet, yeah? on addiction and its subsequent human tragedies. somehow, as I grow older and I am growing older every day, somehow it all makes sense once it’s unfolded, deconstructed to, well, those building blocks that can still be translated in speech, but when it comes to rebuilding the shit back again it’s bucket of Lego time boys and girls, mostly boys, I know nothing about girls except that some of them are pretty.

what’s left of the sun when all the clouds have scattered

what’s left of us when what the hell is going on

scared


shitless. weather in london.vroooooom. is it electric? vroooom. everything’s electric, bro, I’m electric, my deepest secrets are shrouded in megawatts, UV neon light megawatts flickering next to the electric funeral of some far away star I won’t be able to point at in a hundred thousand years. vrooooom. the serpent kundalini unfolds its wings but it is heading the wrong way, towards the pinky toes. vroooom. dig that hole in  the ground. electric signposts THIS IS THE HOLE COME AND SEE THE ONE WHO’S HIDING!!! now that I think of it, the peak of my self-confidence has been reached days after that spectacular threesome. me and the seagulls. edison and a couple of teslas. my ups, my downs and my in-betweens. vrooom!

 

crashed


loved her so much until I broke her to pieces

front wheel ball bearing crashed today as I was coming home

well, home. i rest my bones in a single bed black cotton sheets no pillow, yeah, sleeping bag for duvet, what the fuck is duvet anyway sounds like dover fucked calais’ throat whilst roaring scottish rebellious anthems

crashed

i took the wheel apart and the mini steel balls fell all over the floor. too much love has killed you, red pony. bleeding mini steel balls all over the british green carpet. terminator 2000. tomorrow, baby, you’ll recompose yourself from what we both were able to scrape overnight

and we’ll ride once more triumphantly into the sunset, samurai jack style, white skin burns red under candle tears

tomorrow begat tomorrow