Show yourself, you callous fuck…
was his prod to the purposely blurry.
How much the mostly guys, are costing us? He gob asked and head shook
to the smell of burning laughter as
another pointless shower counts the cost
of the part spun, half done brainwash.
His requirements were notes on a pizza box
and a dry cigarette, his adamants
felt the ease of their flaneurial disease
and in his boys' broken down urchin shirt,
he saw bistro chairs snap over contract
with the air of permanent flair, normally reserved for the undeserved out there.