Lord Knows

Bricks tied to your
Ankles tongue

Pulled out eyeballs
In some tramp's coat

Pocket kidney's sold
To a millionaire


Your left ear's a keyring
Stray dogs chew the fingers

Cut by pliers
Brain in brine


They dipped your penis
In gold and

Threw your balls
To Trafalgar Square

Pidgeons
On a Saturday

Breakfast on Blvd Haussman

I just stopped by Marcel's
For a chat
Over oeufs
à la creme
And croissants

Comme d'habitude
He ate in bed
And didn't get up
Once

His servante let me out
When he gave in to
Relentless fatigue

I can see his curtains
From a bench
In Square Louis XVI

Where Marcel and I
Used to smoke

Flying Colours

This été
Was well managed
A decent mood
Prevailed

The atmosphere
Kept constant
Consistant

My last shot

The 20's
Ended heir
In your city

And with these notes
Scribbled on
Familiar rue's

Thank you

Dog House

Temporary lovers sneered at my past

Achievements

They poked fun

Pissed on my merits

My distinctions

It is only what they were used to

That their judgement was measured

Those bare women

Laughed when another gave me

A number

They spat when they

Smelt other perfumes

On the bedsheets

They deleted my texts

Threw their poems out

The window when it was

Wet and windy

Gave my albums away

To charity

Pretended they didn't smear

Their lipstick on

My stick

Acted like they never

Danced with me and learnt

Fuck all 'bout movies and food

Almost

As if I didn't exist

Links

Note = Read this out loud G.S

Think and drink

Pour, sip, refill

Frozen water

Clink glass stained lung

Spit out

Bathroom sink

Stinks

Vomit crusted bowl

Rinse, gargle, pink

Veins in the whites

Of your eyes

Wait

One other kink

You stopped popping gink o

Biloba and got pissed at the ice rink

She slid over

Our blades clinked

High C

Cutting the sleeve

Of her shrink mothers mink

Just a thin slice

Open on her arm

Weeping warm zinc

That's the link

In my ink

Wax Fruit Pool Party

Blow jobbing bimbos
Arrive once the topless DJ
Throws worrying shapes
From his poolside pulpit

Sunday afternoon
In Geneva and this fuck is mixing
As if he's on a Spanish Island
At climax

No one here is pilling or buzzed
Yet he dances to the soundtrack
As we drink kirs à la pêche

There's a tempting fruit bowl
On the table next to popcorn
Salad leaves and Ice Tea

Girls of all ages and women
Change into swimwear and I
Eat seedless grapes

T-shirtless dudes with tanned abs
And low body fat
Throw frisbees and push each other
Into the cool pool

Before the Dick Jockey plays
His next mistake
A grape from my hand
Hits the back of his throat
And the arms he waved to tunes
Lower
As he tries to cough
It out

The song ends
And another one doesn't start
'till another amateur sunkissed
Brainless DJ takes over

Vagina Mind

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Contracting
Wet walls

Circus blood

Also featuring : The invisible clitoris,
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Running for one week only