FYI ppl

the hoi polloi = the the people
and et cetera = and and other things

of mongrelitude

A bed of roses itself is no bed of roses. Nobody wants an e-book, they would sooner leave you in the lake, a den of mouldering slime for your coffin. Everbody calling it a recession—theyr in a delusion. I am privy to these contradictory situations where I am told first the one and then the other bathroom is the wrong one. Madame, c’est là! and then o monsieur! je me suis tromper! If I powder my nose in the tudes, if I choose to walk barefoot in the small hours…you yourself are a healing property you know. You came home from the fair only to join the circus its festal moods, to feast on frost. So one learns to make thir way among the multitudes. And know bliss as a cowperson.

I know I am the small fry here. Whose harnassed thot drove winter aback, gos wrastlin thir daemon underground. Tho the stirrups brinked and tha mud was broke, I looked down to the rivulet between the tracks, and couldn’t tell if what I saw was a turd or twisted rust metal. & the rats rooting amid the black death and the typhus. One comes out steppin, their eyes fallen on the shores, cognizant only to the trash they mucked around. Suddenly you and your neighbours thighs are pressed together, accidental camaraderie or blunt eroticism. And neither of you move away.

We race toward the mounds of gravel, the morning star met with its wanderer.

blackwater stole my pronoun: xe, xir, xemself

abysse in Fr. refers to the sea specifically
as opposed to a crevasse on land
how we say the grand canyon
or credit ratings are abysmal

one can be in a abȋme, complete ruin
as Jwlhyfer / Julian observd
once you start fucking in the bed
the relationship’s over.

blackwater stole my pronoun
as february unclenches its fist
like hitler using 卍
like Martial’s plagiarius

imaginary and actual koalas, troly loly

for Ryan his 30th birthday

turning 30 is only

as wilde is troly

living for nonce is

the creed of the ponces

s/how candid wit

overall plaisance

imaginary koalas and

creepy quakers

the tong wot ranges

similia similibus

the flameater eats

of the flamethrowers flames

dipping a pigtail in the inkwell

but s/time it’s just sentiment

myope because

they fixate on the boke

whyfore doth that grome

go wandering along the scrim

philippe among the leaves

still a desideratum

the several smitty

& unfortunat blancheflour

r tha bizniss

tho art magicked like newcomers