I found an old book of mine containing bits and bobs written around the time I was oh so deeply in love with dada. (google dada if your not sure about it, but be careful, you could fall down the rabbit hole) Enjoy.
A by-word for filth languishes on the precipice of denial. Reported to elope with strangers my sensibilities are rancid, putrid and dank. Spat with vitriolic force a poison oh so lovely. Sunsets turn; turn on me, for what? For whom? Zoom! Throwing blindly it always rests. Resets. Never against but astoundingly present for all time.
Wind dozing with its self- referential pace slothful and pure. If not for one then for all. Changes rent stuffed. A burning drip of love spent. Building up rolling out, plugging the gap. Mind that gap. Repetition only confuses, sent lengthways to grope and dive. Wading against reasonable expectations, never duping sadly. Seeing into light swallowing fields resting. Step right up one night only for the rest of your life.
A never-ending procession of confrontations by my green candlestick I hold so dear. Grimace as I plunge furnished, my lack of responsibility gritting. It all equals naught but one time it did, slender and yet skinny not dissimilar in any environment. Relentlessly resting retried formulation of a unmentioned pandemic.
Reaching slowing banging on about this bloody slow full stop. Changes rent sheared with glee turning hot. Left in weekly spasmodic weakly driven. Banging on about this bloody slow full stop. This bloody slow full stop. Tirelessly tying to stop.
A slow full stop.
. <— that is the slow full stop.