pub night hot knife kitchen hangout long ago friends find me at home with the old memory of a landline number its like someone pressed fast forward is all & my living room armchair becomes a throne of ages its clear i carried on with the show & when they go i am left with a glow that i was not the fucknut comedy footnote i feared / was sure i could / might be
cordless landline passed-on at pizza time ( be strong- if you call them once you call them every time ) let some other mad drunk ruin themselves calling the world anyway i always bring the drink dont i ? and i seriously cant be dealing with a clabby phone call in this degenerate state i can smell my own snot i can ! and my arms are an untrained operators practice crane and my boots- well they might as well be on the back of my head wait tho- cant you see im hiding here ? from the mutants and the landsharks . . .
DIFFERENT BEDROOM same take-out number scratched on a different stash box different tv remote on the same cd pile playstation controllers scattered around the secrets under the bed BEDROOM LANDS cordless landline calling carpet witnesses in the bedspread rye DENIM HALLELUJAH new music to show hash blims to share walkman loaded for the night time to and fro NEVER enough cigarettes tho
in the bedroom lands kipple array of the 90s denim hallelujah days