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Fantasy Phil

with your soft tongued dumps

and erotic whimpering,

I’ve been down so many corridors

in my mind,

you were in none of them.




So intent on the chase you forgot who you were chasing.  Mediocrity hung round your middle like the white flesh that had accumulated over the years. Life hit you in the face with a frying pan and you were panting from the exertion of trying to get somewhere, anywhere as long as there was freedom in the air and a hole to crawl into when the light faded.  You were attached to a kiss like a moth dying on a bright light and I was kind enough to let you remember one of those nights when the blue fumed smoke had taken over.  So long ago the paint has flaked from the door and swallows have made nests in the bedding.  Dinner with you was a struggle to keep my clothes on, they seemed to keep sliding to the floor as you persisted in screwing life into a monochrome movie  on a shrunken Riviera where the boats leaked bodily fluids.




I’ve been down so many corridors

in my mind

opened doors to a different

stab at reality

lived and breathed in a space

where time has never happened :

only the nothingness of eternity

pulls at my heartstrings.

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