2012年 01月 5日 木曜日 00:30

I want to live in a time with no end. No bus-stop chancers and laptop wankers; I just wish to be transported out of place. The pitch shifts and fluctuates like a diva withA fever and I cry all over my dinner plate. Big, big crocodile tears seeping out of my ducts like industrial waste. Oh John - deliver me from this oily, flesh prison!

Tiny eyes are on me as I pass through the third gate into the field. Orange angels envelope me in their pale, cold arms and I slip into a coma so sublime I never want to awaken again. This is it for me John - these ethereal, material girls can have their wicked way with me - I don't care anymore. Take me with you, you ginger, winged harlots, for I don't want to live on this earth..