as a fire burns within me i sit in a hut

with a white eyed woman/milk-eyed/like marbles sunk into lips of bruised


fat/hair like rust on silk/each strand disintegrating in loops and leaves

in the solid breeze flowing from somewhere far eastern


and dangerous/where horns are ground for impotence and kaffir

lime leaves scent the air like the perfume of an elderly lady with


white eyes and hair like rust on silk/sweat sticks to my skin

as i peel off my clothes//

◄ another day, another gin

basquiat ►


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Tue 6th Sep 2016 04:29

An evocative piece, Stu..

I am thinking of a sweat lodge and an Oriental woman on a flight from goodness knows where who lay her head upon my lap in exhaustion..

Hallucinogen..that's another word that comes to mind..


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