New Bond Street
It’s autumn, human beings and their boots, stepping and squeaking.. the empty looks of October’s end.
Some wellness seekers paid the price to gather at the public sauna.
By heart, they sing and gossip but do not dare a chatter daredevil of I saw you looking at me looking at you.
Some experienced tea with a justified price tag, I treat myself, Mt neighbors know my unique Jasmin 06:12 tea.
I make the rumors and I walk the mode.
Sipping carelessly and spitting on city crows when my large beige button coat touches the surfaces as I change clothes on a weekly basis.
Girls, stand in line for the show, the large wheel of life where bus stops are circus for the left behind animals we used to be.
Piccadilly corner, some Islamabad inhabitants joined up for some Muslim prayers on a Sunday shopping spree.
And my bicycle have paddled by themselves as far as my mechanical engineering allowed it to drift and lose the battle of tricks or sweets, roaming in Greater London parks.
Smells of fresh cookies and laundry and slow living snails middle school girls collect and traverse the striping pass to other side of the green patch.
Where have we gone down the path of 09:48 cuddle at home when croissants delivered a slide on the tongue, the butter.. how we love the fat crawling into our lips and kiss with espresso shots of I didn’t know I have some homework to do, like going to die in war and stuff you know.
Neighbors stayed in bed, fucking the chances to volunteer where have we voted to misconcept the idea of a thousand motions, and other poetic distortions so you might just mighty might cease from reading this piece of yesterday’s cake feeling about life, death and the crust of these geopolitical flats.
Worst or best, I shall stop rhyming and get to work before the pocket money will run out to buy pocket love.
My phenomenal cuddle, 10 pounds.
Just 5 more minutes, tell me again how you adore me.
While licking my paperwork to make more money, just tomorrow.
We’re running in the park, it was just a bad dream.
Everything is being executed.
Paddling the canal, first thing in the morning, the birds are chirping, the water isn’t moving but progress of mind, flow, fire and the elements, we’re drowning in this minute forever minute, don’t let go and carry on.
Regents last words before he kissed the earth goodbye and left a good deed so be called a high tide.
Please, let’s go back to sleep now.
I’m exhausted of loving you.
Little short life.
Can you buy me some time, just ac little tiny rest, I promise, small steps for success.
Artificial intelligence, how do I get filthy famous, dickhead, disgustingly rich and a sexual God?
Sorry, please upgrade your program for these questions.
In the meantime, go clean the New Bond Street and sleep on cartons with strange accents homeless freaks.
The idea would come, I swear.
If you suffer enough to dare.
Heart rate monitor ……
…….
……..
…
..
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
