think of the heart its so many

pipings gunked

tentacling to outer regions

so long that it knocks

we knock about        crumby

no girl, no job, no problem

ballooning ketchup to this end

to bring your adidases

unlaced soiled

to smelly It’ly

where sunned pukes

in genie pants and anoraks

feed their hearts kebab meat

heini swilling unloving and sound