Hey. London.
Fuck me, London.
I’m here on a trip. Please, take grip.
Ride our car. Topless.
Bare back seat. Rip our roof wide.
Shoot your London spurt inside.
Fuck me alive. I came dead.
Fuck London breath into my head.
Remind me how to breathe,
throat deep.
Never sleep.
Never weep.
Fuck me, screaming. Fuck me, dumb.
Fuck me, London, then fuck my Mum.
Yes! Mum. Fuck. We can swear here.
Bold queer. No fear.
Imagine divorcing my Step Dad, Mum,
then you’d always feel like this.
London fucking you! London fucking me!
London, smokey fit.
Let’s stay. Be gay!
Cramped crowd stiff.
Graffiti smacked on barest brick.
Polluted mouths. Fucking loud!
Gimme the keys. Mum, please
don’t take us home to the cruel country.
Marc Bolan was killed by a tree.
Let me be fuck... like Freddie Mercury!
Acid served by naked dwarves.
Mum, aren’t these things you applaud?
Aren’t you stardust? T-Rex gold?
Don’t let marriage turn you old.
That wedding ring’s a circle of hate.
Let London fuck us, Mum. Don’t wait.
That wedding ring is a circle of fear.
Bet my real Dad’s fucking here.
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