Friday, 1 August 2014

dench

Dench

I know it's wrong in seeing beauty in dark things. How serenely stunning the mighty Gustloff looks on her side, sinking. Black Baltic night.
How prettily disfigured is a soldier's face after an illegal explosive bullet connects. One eye function.
See the biker wrapped round the left rear tractor wheel, under the mudguard. Nice fit. What the hell?
Hell on earth. Oxygen and a spark in a space capsule, French fry time. Give them a nitrogen air mix to breathe. Space cadet dead time.
You wanna die? I know a good spot by Uppermill railway tracks. Hide in the bushes and jump on the rails when a train comes. Maybe you're the train driver's third suicide. Can't stop the train or a rear end smash. Next train is five minutes behind. Warm brother style, close.
Nice day sailing. You're rich and an April boy. More cash then sense. When your mast snaps and you're stranded at sea, just think: where's you're radio? Ashore with your bloody brain! You starve to death, seagull food.

So much fun, moving vehicles and darkness.

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