08-28-2019, 05:41 AM
Rhys
Smile please- the familiar entreaty of old men on the street,
Much to our rage, eroding our carefully painted faces, that endless devotion, interrupted with regular creases buried in and in by reluctant concessions of basic human need for, a currency of, reciprocation. I thought it was so clever of Jean Rhys- I pictured her furs dulled by the same condescension, dolling out builder’s tea with feigned, knees, to get passed the traffic lights without one’s confidence being further divided- ‘There’s a hole in your tights.’ Damn, a desire so strong as just one of the dithering dears, to smash their faces in- just once, with a bottle. But smoke curled around his features and dabbed at reality so pleasingly, lamp-light incisions pronounced my bone structure, stroked my self-image, so generous- yet subtly, I didn’t even shudder
; So profanely flattered that here I am in my own flat alone, stupid and hammered.
Smile please- the familiar entreaty of old men on the street,
Much to our rage, eroding our carefully painted faces, that endless devotion, interrupted with regular creases buried in and in by reluctant concessions of basic human need for, a currency of, reciprocation. I thought it was so clever of Jean Rhys- I pictured her furs dulled by the same condescension, dolling out builder’s tea with feigned, knees, to get passed the traffic lights without one’s confidence being further divided- ‘There’s a hole in your tights.’ Damn, a desire so strong as just one of the dithering dears, to smash their faces in- just once, with a bottle. But smoke curled around his features and dabbed at reality so pleasingly, lamp-light incisions pronounced my bone structure, stroked my self-image, so generous- yet subtly, I didn’t even shudder
; So profanely flattered that here I am in my own flat alone, stupid and hammered.