CHRIST!
i scream
like
ripped opened letters
or
some dead alley dog-
& TV
is just
a bar
in ruined Soho
on Saturday night
when they all
come up
from Essex
(like me but NOT like me)
i wobble talking fast/full of heavy mercury and truth
round a square wood table
leaning on a fruit machine
superior
with IQ scorn/broadcasting apocalypse TV
screaming CHRIST! at whatever and anything - the cold black sky?
leaving all my 5p's
in Daddy Cools's
cardboard
den
and pissing endless streams in car park nooks
EXISTENTIAL
and
free
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