Monday, 3 April 2017


Thighs full of sofa foam again
Stairs full of spit
You rip me open and marvel
So much sponge in your fists

When you start pulling
My intestines turn party favour
My innards turn blow torch
Who knew?
I always start with habenero intent

We showed up here with all this discogloss
We slept in
The morning’s wet and pompadour 
Yet another movie about love

Listen: we get on better
When we’re not shaking 8-balls
Don’t you believe in infinity chilli?
Won’t you let the doctor trip out his bones?

Stick out your tongue
I’ve got a drip to make you shiver
Don’t even wriggle
We’re due this dedication to the burn

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