We watch the curtailed in restropective
The eight days in solitary learning to speak Guinea pig
line break music journalists in jungian toungues.
watching the Lost lustre on gym slips
that may never be found again
radio debunker rain kept in
A cold harbour maybe a weather vain Points
too the brew buried within you
Forgetting the ghosts of that shower
That lead them to exiting left
to hide there own reviews of backseat demise.
The translators we past on stairs today
shave work shy ears tommorow
Let’s drive the nights on empty
serviced airport lovers.