English boy medicated on the sofa not working right now.
piss 100 times at night because of the wine and the water.
A Baldwin yells his moral doubts over my shoulder in an FBI
suit his spit catching light.
we ride a space barge at the end of the universe.
in the storm I shelter with a clique of American
comics.
take a prescribed blue pill.
packet says they are for depression
bed wetting
and swollen vaginas.
packet says the risks are hair loss
hair growth
insomnia
and drowsiness.
oh and memory loss.
bearded old J Nicholson right in my face.
enthusiastically he throws gangster coke around by the
handful.
it falls like snow on blue skin ET hookers.
pills for a mutilated nerve cluster I have horrible nightmares of corrupted B movies watched before the main apocalypse feature.
takes the pain away but I am never fully awake.
new white goods arrive at 6.45am
but they are black as limousines.
B Reynolds bites into a living wild cat chewing thru
trademark smile.
C Eastwood watches deadpan
lamb struggling in his hands.
recognise eventually that outside the window it smells of spring sewage.
same New York song will play out the radio everyday for the five weeks English boys off work.
can’t remember what it is tho . . . can’t remember.
oh and memory loss.
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