is thIs what hell looks like?
is this what heaven feels like?
and the laSt time i kissed you, it was sad.
and the last i Touched you, it was out of spite.
he's asking questIons about me, things i don't even know.
and your happiness Lovingly attributes to my lame misery.
but i don't think i'm realLy not so heartbroken as i may have first thought.
i'm a thief of religion,
he doesn't beLieve in me after all.
a handsome, lonesOme crusader of the high seas.
and i trust you'll be leaVing rather soon, like you always do.
and i trust you'll be leaving mE rather soon, just like you used to do.
my thoughts aren't voiced
my prayers left unanswered.
he says he can love me.
but love who exactly?
can he love me more than i loved YOU?

THE LONG HELLO


I left my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling plaster.

Who am I?
Wish I knew!

Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.

Naw...that don't seem right!

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed

before me
constructing in my mind's eye

a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set

nothing behind it
but...

fakily real.

She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve

bit frayed
'round the edges.

and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin

was all femme
fatale.

She spoke
in Film Noir.

I knew
the lingo.

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly

as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.

I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.

I'm a stickler for detail.

This broad
was slim

but with curves
in all the right places

; ; ; if ya get my drift.

Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.

'Good...good! '
she cooed.

'I see your ******* is at least
listening! '

I involuntary
covered my crotch

with both hands
as if I was naked.

I wish she was.

Her curves flowed
like very runny honey

over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip

of a tongue.

She was strictly
yum as in YUM!

Then she went
all Cubist on me

as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.

I felt like a 2-D
drawing

as she approached me
in 3-D.

My conscience found
its voice

(down behind
the back of the couch)

It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.

'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice

'I believe I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.

'I guess we both know the score.'

She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet

like a green silk
puddle.

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's

Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink

...done it! '

'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '

She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.

I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.

She poured her body
all around me

like jelly
in a mold.

'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '

Her kiss was like
the last page

of a **** good Who
...dun it!

finally falling
falling

falling
into place.

I kissed her
lovely face.

THE LONG HELLO

I left my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling plaster.

Who am I?
Wish I knew!

Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.

Naw...that don't seem right!

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed

before me
constructing in my mind's eye

a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set

nothing behind it
but...

fakily real.

She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve

bit frayed
'round the edges.

and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin

was all femme
fatale.

She spoke
in Film Noir.

I knew
the lingo.

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly

as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.

I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.

I'm a stickler for detail.

This broad
was slim

but with curves
in all the right places

; ; ; if ya get my drift.

Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.

'Good...good! '
she cooed.

'I see your ******* is at least
listening! '

I involuntary
covered my crotch

with both hands
as if I was naked.

I wish she was.

Her curves flowed
like very runny honey

over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip

of a tongue.

She was strictly
yum as in YUM!

Then she went
all Cubist on me

as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.

I felt like a 2-D
drawing

as she approached me
in 3-D.

My conscience found
its voice

(down behind
the back of the couch)

It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.

'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice

'I believe I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.

'I guess we both know the score.'

She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet

like a green silk
puddle.

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's

Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink

...done it! '

'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '

She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.

I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.

She poured her body
all around me

like jelly
in a mold.

'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '

Her kiss was like
the last page

of a **** good Who
...dun it!

finally falling
falling

falling
into place.

I kissed her
lovely face.

THE LONG HELLO

I left my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling plaster.

Who am I?
Wish I knew!

Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.

Naw...that don't seem right!

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed

before me
constructing in my mind's eye

a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set

nothing behind it
but...

fakily real.

She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve

bit frayed
'round the edges.

and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin

was all femme
fatale.

She spoke
in Film Noir.

I knew
the lingo.

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly

as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.

I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.

I'm a stickler for detail.

This broad
was slim

but with curves
in all the right places

; ; ; if ya get my drift.

Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.

'Good...good! '
she cooed.

'I see your ******* is at least
listening! '

I involuntary
covered my crotch

with both hands
as if I was naked.

I wish she was.

Her curves flowed
like very runny honey

over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip

of a tongue.

She was strictly
yum as in YUM!

Then she went
all Cubist on me

as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.

I felt like a 2-D
drawing

as she approached me
in 3-D.

My conscience found
its voice

(down behind
the back of the couch)

It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.

'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice

'I believe I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.

'I guess we both know the score.'

She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet

like a green silk
puddle.

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's

Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink

...done it! '

'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finished! '

She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.

I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.

She poured her body
all around me

like jelly
in a mold.

'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '

Her kiss was like
the last page

of a **** good Who
...dun it!

finally falling
falling

falling
into place.

I kissed her
lovely face.