em branco e preto

london happens. for a reason unknown it raves. for its tastes and smoke, crave. grey skies over trafalgar square and the seamless tube. cheers where ecstasy's cheaper than beer. tongues foreign in rhythm frenetic. lynx of power in delusion and coppered madness. frenzy of gusts of blackness on the thames. light up piccadilly with smiles of bloomsbury and the books of charing cross rd.

and for that girl life managed to continue in red hair, symphonic love and outrageous laughter. sickness no more and purse strings loose in the town that's hot. hype follows fashion. british absolute underground. splash.

strings of pearls, unite. desire for her constellations plastic in chrome garments. naked at the court of her earl and bathed in westminster chime of burberry. no such thing as a free ride. and we board with the certainty of getting off sooner than expected. suffer in each jaunt and ache of every joint. sore in times of sour and the arrest of clockworks in the blaze of may.

this month has passed to feed on a love deadened every day and electric in the night of soho. to fill her eyes with tears with my foolish and lovingly mad persistence. heart twisted over the atlantic, sao paulo, chicago and london. hear the rail and soothe with sighs of smoothness at buckingham gate. waiting to depart the land of draining specificity.