I sip my beer, the relief of foam the last remnant of civilisation like a porcupine shawl alcohol is the spine slice beneath the skin welcoming me in.
Electric lights shining bright eels wriggling in a pool of light like Frankenstein reborn the monster within the feathers of a passing dove give flight.
Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus the breathlessness of sentiments wrapped in tin foil the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.
Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit electric toaster bubble and squeak and fidgety machete at the ready the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!' the institute transmutes its underplay I opt to not execute on this occasion instead soak up the libation of liberation.