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/                                   donald trump is here?!    on these splendid, splendid isles?!                                       really?   where was the past week? good thing that i bought that johnnie walker red label especially for the occassion -     without actually knowing it was to take place...     i guess you might call watching protests on t.v.        a bit like:                 going to an illegal rave party in an abandoned                                industrial building somewhere in        dagenham, or shoreditch,                             or 'ackney... britain is not getting what it already wants -                        i can understand blatant flattery, and airs, monsieur,              monsieur bleu, rouge et blanc... the one time that britain looks... bedazzled?!                                frizzy haired... the sort of comic sketch of a **** scene where the man wakes up having sobbed himself to sleep, in a disney cartoonish way expressing frightened awe and the words:      [what] the **** just happened?    'ave a tongue for a **** mate. - honest to god though:    where have i been for the past week?! i've paid attention to the football - croissants, or, chequers?!   hmm...                    oi! two face, what's your gamblers' pundit?                                               - let the slavic sub-plot 'ave it,               if goran (ivanišević)      could do it, this ******* litter can do it, given they reached the semi-finals in 1998...                                  and believe me:    some people...                     *are really jealous of the chessboard representation on fabric, shh...* or at least that's what i whispered into the ear of lucifer,         hermitage's secondary     (only to achilles)                        schwarz, mouse-catcher; and if i'm wrong -      then i'm wrong:      but since i don't actually gamble using money...       i tap into the emotional excitment of gambling -    within the confines of expectation of being right...                somehow, gambling,        but where what i bet with is... zeit... and grooving to boris brejcha, tantra of a DJ set...                    **** me via my ears and call me Sally...                                                              nod nod nod... (ten minutes later):    nod nod nod...           (15 minutes later):    nod nod nod (with an added drumkit imitation of the whole body starting to form a scary shadow of a man sitting down before a blank pixel screen    seeing letters and words appear like a god might see stars, and constellations appear in the dark, dark: voooooooooo                       'oid)   which is no proof that i made a hiccup. /
0
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
current affairs "poem"
/                                   donald trump is here?!    on these splendid, splendid isles?!                                       really?   where was the past week? good thing that i bought that johnnie walker red label especially for the occassion -     without actually knowing it was to take place...     i guess you might call watching protests on t.v.        a bit like:                 going to an illegal rave party in an abandoned                                industrial building somewhere in        dagenham, or shoreditch,                             or 'ackney... britain is not getting what it already wants -                        i can understand blatant flattery, and airs, monsieur,              monsieur bleu, rouge et blanc... the one time that britain looks... bedazzled?!                                frizzy haired... the sort of comic sketch of a **** scene where the man wakes up having sobbed himself to sleep, in a disney cartoonish way expressing frightened awe and the words:      [what] the **** just happened?    'ave a tongue for a **** mate. - honest to god though:    where have i been for the past week?! i've paid attention to the football - croissants, or, chequers?!   hmm...                    oi! two face, what's your gamblers' pundit?                                               - let the slavic sub-plot 'ave it,               if goran (ivanišević)      could do it, this ******* litter can do it, given they reached the semi-finals in 1998...                                  and believe me:    some people...                     *are really jealous of the chessboard representation on fabric, shh...* or at least that's what i whispered into the ear of lucifer,         hermitage's secondary     (only to achilles)                        schwarz, mouse-catcher; and if i'm wrong -      then i'm wrong:      but since i don't actually gamble using money...       i tap into the emotional excitment of gambling -    within the confines of expectation of being right...                somehow, gambling,        but where what i bet with is... zeit... and grooving to boris brejcha, tantra of a DJ set...                    **** me via my ears and call me Sally...                                                              nod nod nod... (ten minutes later):    nod nod nod...           (15 minutes later):    nod nod nod (with an added drumkit imitation of the whole body starting to form a scary shadow of a man sitting down before a blank pixel screen    seeing letters and words appear like a god might see stars, and constellations appear in the dark, dark: voooooooooo                       'oid)   which is no proof that i made a hiccup. /
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removed.polaroid-scrabble
36/M
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
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