It is dark in the room
No light … nothing.
Am I in a cell? A room?
Did I pay the hydro bill?

A shagged carpet under my feet .. my cold blue feet
Cold.. icicles of breath surrounding myself
A gush of arctic wind from the draughty

I need a drink
A stiff drink
Jack or Johnny
Black or red … just a burning sensation down my throat

Where am I ? George Wilson III
Not first or second.. but the third
What do I do .. a holder of pens
Wanted to conquer the world with my pen
A mighty pen.. how flaccid it is now…

Strapped to a bed.. am I now? Where the hell am I now?

The dream again

A girl in the blue jacket.. the same girl.. the dead girl…she looks at me.. with her green eyes and screams.. a thousand crows fly from her mouth… attack me.. and a thousand rat jump from her hair and start biting me.. one rat upon another.. flesh everywhere.. blood..ruby blood… green flesh…me and pain and the teeth of rats.

Thinking about Home
The last woman who kissed me
I am on the road … what road.. fuck

Strapped to a bed.. I saw death
I saw innocence death.. i saw the ripper of the hill

He snatched them from under the bus stop sign
Up on the hill by route 10


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