Paranoia leerers steer towards
                                       my space of delusion
yelling ME!! thru seething spittle teeth /
          they know it all better behind me /
                        I’ll never get a hearing because
                                 of SAY NO MORE beforehand usurping
                        I was “born to /
          must submit to” /
such-is-life pant for grateful
a hacked down lamb.

I take a flying leap into my
                                        trundle boots
clap wings on my arm-ends and
          burst into “their” time with know-what-I’m-doing
                     ready to burn tears of laughter
                               at whore teeth death paperbacking
                                         slack-quaggling devil crackwig
                                                   thwaggered compute-urk fables /
                                                              keeps them insomniac
on a leash deep inside a sillily low
                                         buzz-helicoptered
                                         exclusion zone /
                               alone secretly
                     they die vaguely alone
          sad in small-life floatation
sinking thru the drains . . .

            “Thank God” I snigger
                                         pitying the waste
                     of potential fun merchants.

                                    “Now no more!” I sigh
                                             and walk to my girl.



       Brighton, autumn 1989