.                  lindsay
                                                   shepherd...
     talking...

                                              do i even
need to watch
                       ****?

  sure...
i had one of those,
weird,
"love at first"
sight moments...

with a sister,
of a girl i was
"*******"
(trying to lose my
virginity to...
as it happens...
*******
is useful;
nope...
it ended up being
a girl from Grenoble,
and not,
that *******
   from Ukraine)...

   but never actually
know why...
   no... wait...
there's a tim burton
movie soundtrack?

see... that's why i never
managed to fuse myself
to liking,
either punk,
or rap...
   translating movie
soundtracks,
froming classical music...
somehow...
   i needed to feed
off the eerie...
snow...
   night...
tombstones...
   the cemetery...
ever clear your mind...
peering at a cemetery
when all saint's day
is taking place,
in poland,
and... it's not exactly
what halloween
is in the west, is it?

a crescendo of...
tear burning bright
as amber...
how i'd sometimes
walk into a forest,
sometimes the cemetery...
and then...
one night of the year...
i'd be excused
from wandering...
into...
what became...
an equivalent of
the Chelsea flower show...

the cemetery would
"magically" light up!
scary...
  seeing one's own shadow
in a cemetery...
but... adrift...
with no epitaph ascribed...

but there is that one
night in the year...
when the day of all saints
is celebrated,
in the more...
  "refined"...
catholic confined
countries...
   akin to poland...

    the most serene sessions
of treating my insomnia,
were bound
to falling asleep in
my grandparent's house...
which teases the presence
of mingling
with a cemetery...

to sleep...
  it's not so much
a concern to dream...
but to walk,
among the grey matter
of the throng
    of the dead...

and, all it takes is...
is to clech my teeth
and stutter
in finding a skull,
but no jaw...

           like the current
crescendo...
  it made sense when
the x-men movies
came out...
                   now?
eh...
          last time i heard,
when comics became
serious...
  intellectual pillars...
it was...

  either a danny elfman
soundtrack...
   or...
   m. night shyamalan's:

non-replica movie...

and this is where a
          the end happens...
or it extends...
into a conversation
over a bowl of
spaghetti,
and then we magically
kiss...
  
   and then... oops...
1990s gothica
isn't exactly going
to be "translated" /
plagiarized... is it?

          i see...
i too see it that way:
"they" never let me die
when the natural order
assured me, death...
  i became...
  sort of...
offspring of Rasputin...
well...
   i never came
about to playing
the luke perry role...
i just had the *******
audacity "thrill"...
       to play on...

count: 21... i'm almost 33...
12 years later...
and i've manged
to live through a brain haemorrhage,
an infancy "heart attack"...
and, oh gee!
well... i was never going
to test out
the aztec shaman psychadelics...
i was going straight into
the drug plethora
of what the people
were prescribing schizophrenics!

they said i lied...
   hell...        it's all fun now!
i lied...
   ha ha... i lied...
i almost wish i could
have done the psychadelic drugs
avenue...
****... got stuck in traffic
with the anti-psychotic
mind-numbing medicine
ascribed to schizos...

  and... hey presto!
                 this sort of writing...
good to know
we can be allowed
to experiment...
with / in the most unlikely
scenarios.

- and then you're teased
into a giggle...
via Denmark...

      dough k'all m'eh: bath-man;
ha ha...
you just become prone to loop
& loopy!