They're Only Words.

Without the emotion that drives along our poetry they remain only words.


Everyones spitting gritting hitting shitting whimsical pastures of pestilential sepulchritude. 

…Which is about someone spitting a dummy out and putting it back un-wiped in their gob.


The masterful mastication of the master masturbators morose onanism is entrenched entrancement

.…watching someone wank. 


The subtle blossoming of intrinsic impulses hard wired hoped for knowledge arrives unbidden.

….Having a thought.


The subtle blossoming of intrinsic impulses hard wired for hedonistic knowledge arrives unbidden.

…Having a dirty thought.


Balm for the machiavellian mindfulness of the monstrous meat and veg of normality.

…Taking drugs.


The empathic entity that ended enduring love  beaten to submission by the baton of dishonest debate.

….Getting fucked over. 


Twisting turning forever burning with the lost desire of uncharted stars hurtling into loves black hole.

….Getting dumped. 


They’re only words, 

which disappear, 

lost without the emotion of life.


◄ Last Night.

So I Hit Him ►


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Sat 2nd Feb 2019 22:16

May I be the first to comment Phil. Do my old eyes deceive me or was there just a smidgeon of sarcasm herein, or are you flexing an alter ego as many do.... and we see it often.

On a serious note - bollox comes in many forms.

Loved it of course.


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