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600Dirty white smiles greet on arrival, the post office escape artists, out for survival I got six hunded you’ll give me nine, I’ll give you a fifty if you don’t take your time

The waiting the heat, the radio blues, the j cole cd, the thought of bad news

Only capsules today mommy, my worst fucking line,

Check mate that bank balance of mine, the fire needs feeding my paper is fine

But he’s back and he’s jacked and he’s got the right stuff, and the small talk ends fast as I reverse out the lot – best let me go, let me get back to my bed, reality tv’s only real if somebody’s that’s not me’s dead

You got a family but what about mine, I’m up the ladder, you’re towing the line, or noosing the rope or tying the knot, or just using this scarf as a jack and a swab

Its too easy, I laugh, backing away from the cops, from the blue lights of blue, following me home on the  jones

It’s too fucking easy, one goes to jail, another pops up, from gull, mazeppa and anton lembede to inanda, umgeni and diza mkize, surrounded by gear from fucking Tanzania, its too easy I laugh in my head, its two minutes down the road, its another eight up the arm, its 1 more for the warmth to fill up my heart, pass out, write, stare, stare, dream, forget forgot, go take another shot

Dither the dream along laid in a sweat cold bed, willing the eyes shut in the head

Two red cubes evolve into dread, backwards and forwards dark images bled

Bleed into stories like souls of the dead

Wet haired hounds; drooling songs sang; grave yard mounds; empty beer cans

Navy hats floating on ana girls frame; fooling the gang feeling the rain i can feel him starting his crude brand of shit again

The mirror image breaks when a flash steals a hit; she can’t find a vein, he implores her in vain

Fooling the gang feeling the rain

A river of dreaming will happen next noon

When a cape town boy will die in my room

and another waste will die up the lane

The daily news will publish his name

The mercury will extol his mom’s pain

Whilst he laid dead on ana girl’s bed,

He’s blue colour collar she’s kinda posh

His crime was one night her flame to his moth,

Packets are flushed as a black bag is tossed

Heavy with that boy whom for two nights was lost

Police make small talk as they flank in the corpse

the mirror image breaks with the flash, Kat arrives with more stash

sink tank

and I hadn’t seen A’vol for a while, that big friendly smile, and dead eyes imploring you for a half loaf of bread, for a quarter gram, for a cool drink, for a brief respite from that life on the corner, on the street, a stolen bike we chained to my car driving him home to pick up a score, it was a capsule day and Durban was far, the sun too full, the will written and signed, resigned, I couldn’t make the trip down the hill, so up the hill we head to molweni instead, and the brakes and gears fight through the dust and my little engine chimes it must it must amid sullen stares of why are you going there, white girl, we know your car, we know who you are, you’re that angelic junkie star, all the boys at the rank know, but I can tell they don’t want me to come to their home, its fine don’t worry A’vol assures,

they know I’m a friend of yours. Sleazy angel its fine, angel you’re mine, we get good stuff now now, its all too easy

then i’m in tune, it’s just me and you

he’s been cleaned by faith he can heal me too, just not with the cross but with the spoon,

i can feel my fear sticking to his skin, buggin out, peeling it back, sucking the poison out

DAY 1 IMPLOSION

Today is the worst day ever, can’t keep up, can’t keep calm, rescue remedies a fake charm, tramadol, roxanol, betapan, need a better plan

Too much stress, fuck this cut up mess, I can’t breathe, need to punch anyone in the face, face off, I;m ready, hair bristling, brain bursting, brandy, whiskey beer dear deer in headlights of tough sunlit face, smack me in the face, fire me in the furnace disrobe me, bury me in a mausoleum, tough as wax near a flame, I’m so stretched, , I hold him to blame,ive fucked it up right this far, might as well forget about the progress just regress, digress, undress whats the point, a day is a joke, who thought I could do it anyway some shite astrology chart apparently showing the way, well the son of Jupiter can go eat himself, I’m someone else, brain clouded bristling like thunder, so angry explode so saddened implode

“happiness might now be bought for a penny.” de quincy once blundered, penny my arse, happiness is 6 hunded

And you turned it into a verve song so I might as well have been busking at the cal neva lodge on lake tahoe

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