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"intagram" poems
mmm... anything and if not everything,              but... the scent of... soap.    it was by far the easiest thing to do today, making chapati dough...                   and then frying it...      with a near-miss of smoke-signals going off... since the frying pan became so hot...                       that the kitchen became filled with        the haze...                        still...                               so much more easier than making pancakes...         flour... water... oil... salt... pepper...                   and hey presto! cooking's done.      (sniffing sound): but what's this perfume in the night?     (sniffing sound):          the scent i'm picking up? soap...                  a freshly scrubed and rinsed skin...                  it's far beyond a desire to fry something in butter, or lard...              it's much more than parisian pefumes...        it's... just... the scent of... soap!                                    is it some flower oozing out this perfume?             or is it some woman two doors down,                                                washing herself o.c.d.? i'll say one thing: april in england, this year? during the nights?                      warmer than the may nights so far. but the soap soap perfume in the night!           who's playing tricks on me!?                                           i can't get enough of it! i really wish it's some flower, that you can't intagram or use ****** regocnition* services on...        a bit like saying: you have an app. that                                allows you to recognise vaginas? **** this scent of soap is not going away from my nostrils!
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 7:31 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
perfume in the May night
mmm... anything and if not everything,              but... the scent of... soap.    it was by far the easiest thing to do today, making chapati dough...                   and then frying it...      with a near-miss of smoke-signals going off... since the frying pan became so hot...                       that the kitchen became filled with        the haze...                        still...                               so much more easier than making pancakes...         flour... water... oil... salt... pepper...                   and hey presto! cooking's done.      (sniffing sound): but what's this perfume in the night?     (sniffing sound):          the scent i'm picking up? soap...                  a freshly scrubed and rinsed skin...                  it's far beyond a desire to fry something in butter, or lard...              it's much more than parisian pefumes...        it's... just... the scent of... soap!                                    is it some flower oozing out this perfume?             or is it some woman two doors down,                                                washing herself o.c.d.? i'll say one thing: april in england, this year? during the nights?                      warmer than the may nights so far. but the soap soap perfume in the night!           who's playing tricks on me!?                                           i can't get enough of it! i really wish it's some flower, that you can't intagram or use ****** regocnition* services on...        a bit like saying: you have an app. that                                allows you to recognise vaginas? **** this scent of soap is not going away from my nostrils!
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