. ****, ****, am i too late, am i too late? did i make it to the show, did i miss the circus? oh... looks like... no; **** it... let's party.

in the confines
of a budding flower,
and never:
to be truly exempt from
harbouring its, potency
to bloom,
    always left...
blank, slate,
       like some ghost
off-shoot from
the gallows
in a scheming evil
space of emptied
rooms, corridors,
and... allowed to dart
my eyes into dancing
shadows
without the puppeteer
strings, expected,
to be attached to
these: dolls
of the apocalypse.
   - i... seive through
the scraches
   of an underbelly
of pig, without a well
glared at lights,
issued, to donning
a tuxedo...
just because i was
born with green eyes,
doesn't imply
i am to,
disturb this chess board
of current, and future
events...
  a night at the oscars
is like me taking a ****
in an alleyway,
                funny...
they come for me
when i'm found
******* in an alley...
but when i visit
a brothel...
      handcuffs off
attitude...
             i need,
language to, ferment,
               brew...
  give me the air
it itself requires
  to be left manifest...
anyone,
figure out,
as to why...
the prime purpose
of expression within
the confines
of the english language,
has to move,
all the way from l.a.
to the faroe islands?
no? me neither...
   but i'm done
with all these spasm-riddled
anorexic zombies
of the cat-walk,
walking like
rearranged, *******,
toothpicks missing a shadow,
and... a limb's worth
of the torso having imploded...
oh but i'll eat,
give me the meat
for the worth's
of a dog barking,
growling, and then
allowing itself to scimitar
the flesh
with every bite, chew,
and pavlovian dribble...
like minded individuals:
welcome!
i almost forgot to mention
the curiosities...
like:
   when i wouldn't
decide to take revenge on
a *******,
instead... forgot
my genitals
(because i didn't trim
my *****, having
to remember, to forget
my face, and synonyms)
and kept kissing her
for an hour...
rib-it... rib-it...
rabid rabid...
a frog does a burp and...
  you start sinking
into an **** of imagination...
plenty of that
where this came from...
slacking on psychadelic
drugs, exploring the foundations
of literacy...
   a david walliams
little britain sketch,
   high-pitched voice
at this point:
         ooh... whoopsie cares?
little cry-baby
with a ******* attitude
problem...
they were always going
to ask a ****** to do
the voice-overs for
those,
   expected to be castrated...
given they weren't circumcised.
ooh! the litany!
like i said...
by the time i'm done
drinking that bottle
of *****,
my ego is going to,
resemble,
            a... submarine...
then i'll splinter...
and call for all aid for
africa propaganda to
be dipped into
   cleopatra's grimace,
for: translated into:
bath tim.
what? i thought that
sounded better than
time, or thyme,
or... never confuse
Timothy with Thailand;
whittle timmy...
timmy do good...
  timmy well behaved...
timmy begins,
  and ends with...
shaving prospects...
via... scalping...
   a scalp "victim":
******* left the remains
of a receding hairline!
         ha!
talk about going
    to the wrong barber...
oh, not turkish...
turkish: zee klassik...
    see... *****...
does terrible things
to people...
     you down 'alf a litre,
you start
    to juggernaut into
a blank canvas...
  poetry? yeah: forgot
                                  the paint.