a girl ends up saying:
'oh god, i miss my blonde hair',
a boy?
'oh god i miss Duran Duran.'
meeting you... with a view to a ****...
i want to stay up all night drinking
warm whiskey reminiscent of the
1980s;
honesty, just today a "nice Jewish boy"
with vanilla *** while
she got all the kinks out with
******* S & M to knock a few budgies
about in her leather knickers...
nice Jewish boy goes home vanilla intact;
i end up calling up the fire brigade
even though i should be calling Freud the popsicle
joystick friendly St. Paul, an ice-cream vendor
akin to Rasputin;
i know, comedians made fortunes from what
poets failed to compute, namely punctuation;
Eddie Izzard is a colon for each comma:
like zui quan - no, no, wait... there's more!
and it's worth an ingredients list of said hopes for
sat on ****(,) forking the blob bits concerning argument
about ******* girth salt and pepper
on sausages! my excuse? the carry
on movies and zui quan meaning drunk boxing...
i.e. you pretend to be a tarantula that bit itself
by accident and pretended to be disorientated
but in fact focused like Hemingway on narration
after a cocktail of death in the afternoon
(absinthe mixed with champagne)...
but did i tell you that pine is almost like anise?
rub it into your hands after ******* in an alley
and it becomes the nearest approximate of anise.