The last of the sticks, so

colour me quick.

The maize blaze burns

but the tossers still turn,

the last of the cigarette.

Bodies below


me, and colour me quick –

the beats that sync on a

canal boat trip tide.

The secrets of people peeling.

Inner sense smells and the philly boys play

as the cherry rests on top

but the birds are still singing as the strings


up tight

colour me quick.

Sinita dishes out balls –

spreadable with the truffle cheese

honey …

she’s sweet and up that video junk



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