it was the year of the piñata,
too much wine and beer,
but today i revised myself, bought thirteen quid’s worth
of whiskey and lost my former bias,
and as i read the informational cameo
it dawned on me, it dawned on me to revise it, like so:
uk chief philosophical officers recommend adults do
not regularly exceed -
3 - 4 units of advice as men daily
and 0 - 1 units of advice as women annually.
well give woman everything and she might give just
give you all of what eden isn’t -
and you’ll be up there thinking out why anally speaking
the crucifix was a violin jew of the place he once once
knew, but golgotha isn’t a city or a place,
it’s a crucifix and nothing more.
but as i sip my handy new friend to shake me later
i remember... this story isn’t really about me,
it has a vague resemblance of me included in it,
which means that all that is surrounding this tale
is more about something that’s beyond ‘the guilty me,’
a sort of rasputin oddity of strength,
i wish i could capture body language humour with letters,
but i can’t, all i can say is that when she was near suicidal
taking the advice whispered into the air for her presence
she didn’t slit her wrists but aimed at cutting downstream
aiming of an artery like luke suggested,
and when i was there for three days, i only undressed
in bed on the second night, slept with the window open
and the cold edinburgh late autumn fuzzing up my shortcut hairstyle
into a hoped for meningitis,
while she played a video game talking about
not being able to kills this giant lizard,
with the odd outburst about her brother being dead
and the best *** she had with sam,
while i brought her curry from the mosque (this time not barefoot),
popped one of her anti-depressant pills
and then left speedily on a train i came;
this edinburgh haunted me,
she texted me on the train - ‘why did you leave without
saying the daydreaming goodbye?’
and i replied - ‘ whisper sometimes girl, whisper,
and i’ll give you a cat’s whisker.’
edinburgh haunted me this time - this time i was ready
with the chocolate minstrels upon arrival
but not the ****, odd thing is
i turned a relationship of a few months not even worth
to mention half a year into a writing career;
and if i do it for free for the rest of my life,
i won’t have to think about engaging in gambling
or buying her a nice new floral outfit in the parallelism of imagination.
i’ll be among the ancient greeks thinking about
the stilettos of mahogany tables and trying to find a
stray dog for companion in a jar like diogenes;
but i might come across the whitecoats who will symptomise
everything about me for a 9 to 5 for five days a week’s worth of
bacon eggs and bread.