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breadwinner eating limeys
the English off their ships and coming home
and Rupert Crash back home
rrrrr crash
he sticks Q-tips in his ears walking stiff knees
hardly a gait, hardly
was an eclectic time, inhaled passively
with that girl who he did shangai stirfry with
now standing in this Dustbowl encroaching on him like marine snakes
his apartment performs vivisections on him
he has pills for giving up wanking
they make him wet the bed
Porton Down comes to visit his home
and his jewellery box is confiscated for producing self-design rhinestones
piss on that mattress that twenty years before (Odysseus)
Rupert made out with Judy on the patch where he spilled blood
in his maiden attempt at vampirism but passed it off as cranberry juice
his gibbous back looked like it had swimming fins in the notches
his spleen is still disfigured and brine and soap suds enter the welts
welts he made from self-flogging on the crescent boulevard
he’s procured a Wetherspoons stink to his trousers
piss and fermentation on the troglodyte
he’s a scummy paddlefish hung in a dive bar
he shakes like a cappuccino machine, cholera-ridden and twitchy
boots in the mud and geography professor jumper
his mucus-stained affection for companions could be superficially gray
something rosy emerges from behind his cracked sunglasses, aged 68
an agnostic rosary
looking like John Mearsheimer even at 24
but with ugly eyeliner
and his cheeks more Madchester 1990s opiates affected
rrrrr crash is in a thousand year dynasty
pouring end to end like in an hourglass
he will let it die in his balls, flush it down the refilling toilet
gray and legs in the windowless seat of the pub, dry, melting as slow as a glacier
sorrowful, uncrying because of a steer in chemistry to starboard
rollerblading over a street of bounty hunters Rupert pushes
Rupert plucks
he walks to slay the suitors who he turns down
he’s a cocktail-shape of a body, pulling a sled like a mule
a putrid trendy machine once — pristine and horrid
pristine shoulders protruding from vest
now drab now drrrrr crash
all the wiser onwards and upwards
as he remains an oik forever
fondling the change from his pocket at the vending machine
which says ‘Are You Thirsty?’ in pink letters
maybe taste forever
with your auto-handjobbing tongue
in front of the dirty plexiglass home, dog kennel
fell like a Southern Belle with fingers in a libertine hoop skirt
rinsed, pasted
