the first verse has some sort of divinity in it
innit?
followed by blah
induced by education
influenced by footsie
******* by governments
you never get the bike you want
spider-man is a man in a costume
your best mate takes your girlfriend to the prom
you blink
you water the roses
your parents and your wife
hate you
you have been adopted and divorced
without having a say
you loose your keys
the global warming ain't warm enough
to keep the numbness away
feed the meter
feed the children
feed the pigeons in Trafalgar square
you have a common face
and love is a hypothesis
never proven
yawn
fret
shuffle
your keys are missing again
your looks, brains and mojo forever
stuck in a queue for uniqueness
everyone else on Earth is already unique!
laugh like a clicked emoticon
when society flips you:
head - hope
tail - desperation
nada in between
watch out!
the last verse is coming
[look busy]

scrawled on public lav wall
expression of desire
meet for cockfun
bring own lubricant
hateful avarice
petty meanness
******* FATFACE
Good, innit?

I hurple t'ward the Wabbit Warren
of pomposity;
a reynard of levity,
lost.

lollop,,,,,,,, that's a good word innit?

"there's all these worlds I just want to explode into, and I.. I haven't been able to.. haven't-- part of me is really excited while another part of me-- another part of me is like aahhh very nervous, you know" she sits and talks like fire thunder water rain, the lesser part of me is still stung with an arrogant confusion. No reality is my reality is the reality of things around-- sometimes it hurts to be alive-- aches and bleeds-- other times it's like gym-pain-hurt or classroom significance with a keepers knowledge base but a lot of fear of fluorescent lights (of and for said fluorescent lights).

There's only silence now-- silence in the modern sense of silence of speech-- the drone of water-drips and espresso machines and underquiet music from ceiling speakers is the whitenoise of the world when everyone decides to shut-up. I will begin to read into the world the same way I read up on it.. I will sling my own roadkill carcass across my left-shouldered sweater.. cross myself off your bucketlist; wish I had some adderal to weather me up like a cloud.

I'm not gonna lie and pretend to be 'okay.' Per se, I'm 'okay,' but as a business-as-usual assumptive process of 'yes I will see you tomorrow afternoon and we will meet in the cafe downstreet from the market' sense of the phrase I am not okay and in fact sat alone ontop my sheets and for 27 minutes straight gazed into my bookshelf wondering why it all seemed so uninteresting when 30 minutes ago the topic of Islamic extremism tethered me in with wonder and fright.

- - -

If you want to meet a boy, meet him in a library. Meet him in your favorite section and next to your favorite author, next to your favorite subject-- perhaps your forte is the trading history of ancient Polynesian tribes--- they had oversized canoes and somehow managed to sail thousands and thousands of oceanic kilometres unto ancient Australia, Pitcairn, Wallis and Futuna... perhaps it is a cultural conceit of ours to look down in awe and wonder, "how, in the name of Judaeo-Christianity, were a group of savages able to spread across an expanse of ocean the size of several Roman Empires?"

shut the **** up and drink yr fluoride water, whiteman

- - -

There are a thousand different ways to spell a name.

Pronunciation means so little—so desperately trying to fit itself securely into the matrix-belt of existence—no, I said, you can't use my toothbrush. It goes in my mouth.

With the sertraline still sifting its way thru my veins, I arranged another line of ******* upon the cloud-white-black-stripe plate and saw that—except for the light—it was almost entirely invisible. I rolled up Chris's 5 dollar bill and then pinched both ends to draw the makeshift drug-hose into an even tighter loop. Chris paced back and forth in fueled thoughtfulness, unperturbed at my disallowance of his using my toothbrush to assuage his plaque-plagued jaws. He was on about the lowest common denominator as we discussed the folly of all orthodoxy—I held the bill up to my left nostril, inhaling with rapid force to push the drug past my nasal cavity and toward the closest vessels capable of breaking blood-brain barrier for ecstatic 30-minutes of internal spirit-fame.

most of the time, my bad habits are just telling my thoughts to shuddup.  

(quiet little Angels; confused Holy Ghosts. That's all we really are, innit, kid?)