Monday, 16 October 2006


Sleeping on the dangerous planet
to discharge the daily toxins
and ghost a new narrative

Into the fuzz, dream janglings
won't shut up or down
in the forsaken lavatories of embarrassment

but the senses are a front
frontal or fractal our humint
is a conjugation of weakling verbs by night

desire flared once
and ended in fuzzy logic
the time-ship is only a time-slip

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