First cup of the day.

Disident residents flee populous

Parlour as the hornets that Invade 

the nest of the tattoo’s heartland.
looming Large over historic imported tea 

towns deaf to their own origins editorial 

Exit of time lapsed Licence Of pre transmission.
First things first said the thirst 

To the cannon Waiting to kill 

the night starved synapsed fuse

Pour me a drink or two.
Shilling rosin cones of amber chest 

a ringing conscience questioning

what if the earth was the moon 

as the race to return the salt flat lake

On four wheeled ownership.
To trade on free dimensional illiteracy

For a new reality of terra formed seated piracy.
First things first said the thirst 

To the cannon Waiting to kill 

the night starved synapsed fuse

pour me a drink or two. 

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