340.

The mobile gas chamber turned up 

late last night Dressed   

to be Converted to catalytic green.

—-
Go to sleep said the man dress in Paisley

The lion can’t hurt you here 

it’s limbo bar Short on chocolate.

as I tumbled through The Virginia creeper 

glass inspection eyes And the arms of a psychologist 

Where guess the safe words mean nothing.

—–
At thirteen as we crossed lines into hells

Having seen the dirty version of Belles 

And what happens when you drink the Memphis. 

 —-

cement and ray hypothesis me whilst playing 

Sleeping policeman on a sponsor channel in decline

Sleep tight and kiss the devil by your bedside.

—–
Goodnight sweet meats murmurs.