Tourists at Petit Dejuner

All showered, shitted and shaved Armpits, pussies, legs Men in denim Shorts and shirts (all with hair) At 7 a.m there's no one Younger than me I'm on concentrated juice And coffee, no sugar They stack plates: Ham, jam, pastries How saccharine These couples that have Curled and cuddled As I curdle without G My guarantee I can't help from looking outside We get a taxi to the airport And abandon We don't book Or research We go where we see A sea from a room I get up and groom Clip and nip and lay On marble Waiting for a breakfast Of honey Ham and sugar.

LIPSINKING

These are lyrics to cervelle musique (avec ou sans capers) I'm in Seville kicking peeled orange skins At pigeons that don't know where Worms wiggle. My kidless kidneys dance On the other foot The white robe worn Is a hotel bathrobe My hand in my pocket Feeds snails named Alanis and Anaïs Who else: Henry Miller. And after Plucked from the garden Fucked into a brown bucket To shit it all out: A detox for death to be delectable. My pupils have been lessoned Regarding this photo of us It opens my pours I'd swear on the heart of Christ If i'd jamais met 23 versions of your shape And look my search would constantly Be to try and find a switch to finger Not a trigger But you are A floodlight.