Burn Burn Burn

Who's what she said? Date in the night? Well then there now of time. Well then there now of super city without this love or that love or be love or with love or done or started or moved or saw but didn't touch or wrong number or didn't call or wasted that moment or leapt to close too far into the light of the nearest star only to burn burn burn up in the atmosphere that you thought was thick, but was somehow indescribable thin air, and air too cold to stay in the wind knocked out of the lungs or slip of desire like cryogenic juice no wait, mist, but really ghost, get out ghost, move on ghost of cryogenic sliver of time, or beast of well said bourbon or well said “they don't come back mamma do they?”. Set sail into the white spray and wash of ocean and curled up in the sacred heart of ancient India. And look, my sandwich remains in my bag, I think it's content to be eaten in time,
and brings to mind ringulet girl, dreadloch girl with “Friends, not Food” with pictures of duck, cow,
sheep, goat and chicken emblazoned on her back, but the Turkey in my sandwich wasn't there and it'll be good, but you thought, so? I cut around I'll do, I'll seek, I'll spark and the stuff will light up the night sky like an orange orgasm of supernova, you speak the name of Ra and see the sad eyes of the Golden Labrador and say, mmm, mmm, should it be? No. Be It Let. You work it out, it's the sun massaging a shoulder of cold but that light is dancing and the fucker took eight minutes to be there and then, wow, particles of light. You look amazed about the wavelengths, well I got news for you baby, you are the mother fucking wavelengths and so you say, alright, for chrisakes settle down. And here comes poor old Maglart, all bent up and unwashed and beaten down and sent back to the star-filled out back with a laugh, oh you heartless fiend, and poor Maglart shuffles off to the next beg, and I'm telling you the truth I don't know how we live with ourselves that sees poor old Maglart inserted into our veins nightly, sucking the life out of his lungs and shattered life, what if I could swap, die for Maglart. Say prayer for Maglart. Get martyred for Maglart. Sip beer for Maglart. Vote? Vote? Ah sand, it's all sand don't you see. Grain of time. Grit of overlord. And he'll pass into infinity and we'll pass into infamy. And the cold takes on my thighs and winds, and I love my new black and white jacket because it denies the wind and was sold by good Frank. Good Frank who had been in that street and in that store for forty two years. Good Frank he was a tiny salesman selling wonderful wind cheating jackets and after twelve years, twelve years, his boss actually said “Frank, I want you to rename this store after yourself, and I want you to own it and run it from today forward.” I am telling you the truth, between good Frank and Maglart I sit here and reach infinity within the confines of eternity.
So have an apple and enjoy the juice.