Now, dear, let me take yuo through this wordy music, yuo can hear in my ears…
… Sponge… Out through the window sill; the TV commercial sings about red rose or an ultimate takeover of today’s economic trend-setters, by a tremor; of cantankerous bidding.
Andrew says there’s this part of town he always looks at with envy. And then there’s Mary who’s always been an ant on my neck:
Your window sill just sounded: is that a chirping I hear, around your frontyard’s leafless tree. Or is it that lizard again?
I thought rich people ALWAYS get that first-class flight, beautiful girls and fine liquors, and tasty delicious looking bars of gold. Bitter; is the taste of that gold chain the rastafarian on TV is wearing, doubly sure.
So, we stroll together out, I don’t have anything doing today; you only have to check at the records’ office in school and then come back home. Ofcourse my headset is in my ears and your palm in my hands.
CNN tweets an Armenian fool died on a bottle of Vodka. I get bored thinking about yuo and scrolling through your pictures, and frames and re-reading your tweets; and touching your body, and seeing your orange cashmere lying harmless on the chair in my room.
You forgot your brooch too, Love, Peter.