Friday 15 May 2009

32 bears fuckkkkking in a sweet shop (2009)

32 bears fuckkkking in a sweet shop.

Ubricorn’s flapping about out the back of Maurices’ crazy old Bernadette and the lof’s a little worried he’ll fly with a pikey’s five fingers.

Its about karma- the stolen chair from around the corner.

Glasses, work filled forms, a wet spoon cup of tea and my feet really stink in these pumps.

See a man about a dog, four people in the car until one escapes and we’re off to the chips and fish shop for green tapas.

Dump the unicorn and we’ll grab a table in the windy corridor.

Change of plan we’ll sit in a booth designed to echo that gigantic burp. Have a little perv and act like outrageous pop-stars. Those balls, free cocktails, funny stories and plans made to sit in the sun, drink rum and burn Bathory’s face on a purple jacket of hot coals.

I’ve got a little secret for you. Jugs and wooden punching sticks and a light bulb standing on end. Anyone for a red?

Left or right, a little lost but there’s a pirate tuning a Mic and a dance floor that I tried to dance on but got shy and forgot how to move my eyes.

All drunk and walked out on the bill. To dance in your pants with shirt-less friends adds some fuel to my running fire. Fight the cat, pose for a shot of hidden secrets, hidden lenses.

Watching from a peeping grandma’s corner, passed out in bed with a jelly sandwich and another sunrise brought in alone.

To a slightly sick stomach of sugar and smiles. A few forgotten giggles and a day left to foggy hazes.

A secret, a locations of rooftop toilets and grandpa’s older bigger fussball friend.

A combination of slopping roves, you on my left and a thumping whirr of the fridge humming along. A flash and it’s here a drink a smile a held hand to the chest of your man.

13:1 on the floor. 3 on 1 with a chair walking on tram tracks, falling down holes across roads. I wiggle, i nearly fell oh fucking hell. Stolen hats, espressos and super noodles. Three wenches finest hours.

A smell that drives you wild, a squidgy cat poo between your toes. Girl hood troubles like a coy child. And a secret weekend story venue, a wink over a tea mug. An inside smile.

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