.the lost sigh of the new exasperated... the lost sigh being an anne sexton... and the new exasperated being an olivia gatwood... old pixie new pixie and borrowing from: garden state... like lazy grit... the best searched for scrutiny & with life... my own too tender heart... a mushroom cloud and a moth nursery... my own mea culpa my loiter my digression... my... giggle shot at the knee... before the already disposed kneeling; "process". the process of breaking up feuds... notably? telling the difference between broken mirrors and broken glass... a false memory of a dalmation... i call it Dunkirk but it's (it was) actually Dundee... and... drinking tequilla with an orange and sugar than a lemon and salt... and not getting laid... because... "let's forget" that was the first and last available impromptu... to settle a grief of memory... the last explored eventuality of "re-imagining" a banana: as straights and "justice"... and that grief of a grimmace when: a lemon bit into: was all that was expected! i can't let go, though... it's not like i'm holding to a harry potter impossible... dancing on the old college roof... edinburgh... listening to the shins' new slang... my most "solipsistic" spectacular... the same old attempting to solve puzzles by ******* girls with tattoos... my prized daddy issue? he's not dead in that there's also a "yet"... here's to me swimming across la manche! because... there's a heap of barley to be digested and ******* out like: tomorrow... eh?! coming across new vinyl is like... the realisation that... there's actually no new money... or no new concept of money... like pebbles are not copper effigies made into shrines and what not; it's a near impossible venture to test rich... with later boasting... beside what's necessary as: the enough... there must be a concept of... losing track of the peacock... **** me... i will have to agree that there actually is the "right" number of oysters being "served", gulped... "divorced"... moth in transit... stitching itself shut to my bedroom wall... and that's worth savouring... the inability to savour a furthering with plot of berryman sexton plath and... this robbing scrutiny of the obvious crescendo.

listening to classic.fm
has become largerly
impossible:
even if one has a stomach
a mouth and an ****...
notably from
the argument of
a bbc radio 3 d.j. -
thereby / therefore
i concur...
   it is very impossible...
to stomach classic.fm with...
the money... the adverts...
and since i forgot
to mention the ordeal
of advert when... listening
to bbc radio 3...
but that there's so much
of everything
so predictable...
   i'm yet to age around
the summit with
bbc radio 4 being...
a blatancy...
a blatancy of having
a forgiving insight
wedded to a nostalgia
of a... somehow "missing" year...
best encapsulated
by the frizz of autumn:
a haste via an agitation
that's beside (the) zenith
that's (a) death;
the english scissor cutting...
the A-THE-ISM
of the indefinite and the definite
article...
lost toward the other shrapnel:
the conjunction and pronoun
and the lost remains
of the... other...
sort of load of *******.