Secondary certificate

I began to think that burning one’s fingers had nothing on one spitting ink, and with this in mind, I found my palette lined with asbestos. The lights turn blue with cigarette smoke and the fumes from petroleum lamps, cramps in my hands creasing the words that I write, a slight irritation in my bowels…

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Turning points

Shapes become shapeless and the shapeless are the homeless on the pavements that undress them and put them to bed, reforming and naming the nameless if reforming’s the word or reshaping the ones that are shapeless making the idea of homelessness absurd would if we could be ideal. there’s a countdown to the shantytown and…

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And Monday begins

Time to get my groove on get up and get a move on, oh shit! the groove doesn’t fit the move’s too tight I must have put some weight on whilst gorging on the night…

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