I'll never render, only lie
through teeth so cracked,
so broken. By the fluid of
desire that has tainted me.
Forgive my splinters and
excuse my scars which
scream in your face and
strangle you, Father.
Idle consoles and dusty
comics. They lie upstairs,
with much more honesty
than me. Your bearded child.
It took short of ten years,
to grow long, dirty, and
poor. I have been taken
by the concrete of London.
I have a new found love,
a libido for burn and for a
prick. Prick of the promise
land. Intravenous fling.
But I am back now, Father,
with some chocolate,
sweeties and smack. I am here.
And I want all that you have.