Sugar pox pie
I held you to your burning
Stiletto fucking goodness, the colour of ochre on a Sunday
Twisting your ankle on ice-cream in the middle of a circus
Reaching past your face to pick an apple off the sky
Deep demented wanderings in dark remembered halls
Consecrated cream
Idle motifs and seven fat cows
Search and you shall…
Eatable intersections and far-away eyes
Kings-Cross lollies stuck to your shoe
Plays so righteous it hurts
Wanted for delinquence, solvent combatants
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