Cursed ghouls and ghosts demand revenge

colours will fade as our love fades

in the haze of a sweet afternoon, the

angler fish flashed light on the smooth

movements of languid pleasure moaning

 from the bed.

 

You don’t look like your profile picture

Nigel said to John Lennon

more like Bob Dylan on speed

among the loss of time

and our love reigns

 

We were Kings of poetry and past times,

now lost in the final dregs of a gin bottle

Martians at large in Stockport

 

Latest news – all’s well that ends well

too busy with themselves to bother

about others.