Fuck you. Pirate melody? While I obscure
your finding the cure for the fog and the hate
surrounding my shooting brake while I rake up the shit lying in the gutters and the dutch big skirt standing over it handily? Handle me, I scream, in ten kinds of colors making you my brother to cover the bullshit brown out me. There was a shut down, can you handle me? There was a shut down. Damn near black out. East said no. The grid said yes. For a second everyone was a moonlit guest. The hounds came out. Every single last end was found and then the power came back and black went to light.
When was the last time
fright turned to sight
while the street lamps blinked to the melody
inside your head?
A long. Long. Walk. With two matchsticks
and one barrel.
