little stripey socks
dearth of a ladies man
Untitled
Waking up alive in London beaches of muddy iron filings
bubbled under
puddles of rain
soaped wet water
Fitzrovia splashes in the dips
of her curbs as I slip a folded fifty
in to a clammy glove
and skip
off the pavement by the
‘Kebabish City’
lick lick fry chick chat
does fixing up rot your teeth?
What about mine.
In the sweet by and by my crooked smile from one too many sad goodbyes no longer says hello
(the west end is piles of rusting pedals and blank metal stares)
and finally- THAT Amstell interview (Simon Amstell IS God
)http://youtube.com/watch?v=eTHPsxJgMEA
