I would do a lot of under cuff stuff
To get a million miles from your position
Forced to swallow coffee drops
And perform the ventriloquism required
To perceive the illusion your gorging on the same
Delicately you were on moonlight ridden nights in the park
Inviting a kaleidoscope of fauna in your a gaped jaw
As your follicles all shoot out, like grasping for photosynthesis

And tell me, is he courteous enough to believe the lie?
As he takes vague sentences and defiant dodges
As you would a wedding vow
Cheesy smiles and arm prisons installed on your shoulders
While you go home to the sex your not having
Something about being 1/12th of a wish puts him off
Does the molasses of guilt pour from his gullet?
While you spend another Saturday night, deciding your Rustlers Flavour

What of your intention? Or least your means to indulge them?
Is the fate of cobweb covered antiques
Something that really speaks to you?
What of the voice calling to nostalgia?
As you beam with pride at the foot of V-bar
While transcribes get passed around the joint
But those Chinese whispers come back to haunt you
Why not release the Molotov?
And remember the rumours front to back
From mildew stained bath tiles
To the majestic caress of the hotel sheets
It kills me to see you drown in dissatisfaction
So won’t you trade a quip or two with me?
And transition to the recollection of a life time

Sebastian Noël