FastEddiesBullet

effortless similes drifting like fallen stars atop a sewer river of lies meanings hidden between the lines read between the lines boy oh boy a man’s a man for a that after all after all that frozen verbiage corked in a mind don’t mind me son shake that bottle pop fizz bubbles spurt over the hand that feeds which is bitten by a poet’s soul or is a poet not a poet when he no longer believes I believe boy believe life live and love in wonderful otherwise present messages seeming to call from behind or beyond or before but close though not close enough to smell a balloon filled almost to bursting with angry breath stretched like skin over a ripe boil hot fever delirious visions one after one after one after arithmetic progression not comprehending the understatement but under each surface under lost frames of reference gone long gone son come along alone and lonely metaphors one by one like pearls emerging pop pop pop from a tight and fleshy orifice pulled by string tightly strongly in one direction resisted in another but where is up and there is no down so how can this be right what cares the world for any pathetic intellect now it is truly not now no longer the thing is it is the thing the thing the thing is friends and neighbours and pals and enemies and aliens and ass sucking leeches learn that time is a poultice that draws all poison into the passing moment for past eventually has passed and if the past has passed away then why does it happen in minds eyes in minds tears blur eyes and bile rises an emetic on the memory brought on son on you go for sickness belongs outside like a sunset setting on the sea sizzle sizzling vapour billows up nostrils smarting steam with the smell of rubber mixed a hot water bottle warms the memory sheets of soft texture covering a mind cocooned cocooned marooned on a desert island no water thirst hunger sand burning and white like a virgin bride glowing with lusty anticipation on the demise of her maidenhead yet wallop wallop bye bye birdie she crows noisily waking the dull with her kraak kraak yellow pieces of plastic shredded in their nests from a bag boy a bag an empty bag the cats escaped yowling for a mate but only confrontation awaits this fighting tom fight on boy fight on guns in the distant flash of explosions a thief’s stolen hours eliciting similes drifting like petals fallen on a shroud of lies