The photos didn't attract the right attention
because they don't go for interesting
You were fucked off when the cards were laid,
so you'll have bad dreams along these lines:
On the suburbs of Milton Keynes
in cold lodging sits Michael Barrymore
masturbating,
ugh.
And I'm wired off my face
Out of it and loopy
out of the loop.
Far out of view/youth,
far out of happiness.
I've always liked the idea, I've always liked the idea
of synchronicity
On the other side of the cinematic street
An eighteen year old writes,
and the irony is always unfound:
"I want a girl who will wrestle me
and let me win
Who I can talk to
about anything
About anything."