I stole the adrenalin gland of a genuine street hero.
left him bleeding in Tilbury alley of used needles where gypsy’s horses walk free.
home I pump it up a main vein with the World Service on.
in San Pedro the mayor announces the death of a notorious kidnapper 4 hours before the police find the body.
I lie. its just Wild Turkey from Soho Wine Supply.
but its all the same damn thing when its naked and neat and in a glass in the kitchen in my hand like this.its true about the Mayor in Mexico.
reality has lost touch with me and it is the Wild Turkey’s job to catch me up no problem.
probably a lie. or only a mistake. don’t know yet.
tightly packed tinned preserves go bad in the fridge air.
in the street of strangers a boy-child kick-starts a dirt bike everyday at 5 and 11pm.
this is true. the police are aware; I told them at the door. the WPC had muddy feet and they declined to come in.
Wild Turkey goes down a powerful treat the adrenaline gland of a real street hero.
policemen guard a children’s ward but the criminal is inside spiking all the saline with only air.
I ready myself watching the front door waiting for reality to catch me up smack me up a main vein.
No comments:
Post a Comment