Don't put your tootsies in, or swim in my jacuzzi and get your own Manischewitz,keeping the Citronella bug lights burning as I promote my tango, sideswiping Poeand the Keebler Elves...they don't know shit about decay and Annette Funicello,my muse...

...who the walls, crawling through my mindeach kiss a graffiti, of mortal sins masturbatingbut listens, but walls, without mouth or tongue,ghosting whores pulling me deeper into insanitywith a lullaby for my gothic ink, bleeding my soulwith plastered tattoos while...

In painted ink, with charcoal tones, I confess waiting for Charon.The water too thick for the crossing, watching the gray rise. A single, distant, sickly gas lamp stabs at the gloom, offering notlight, but a suggestion of form—a spectral...

...𝖇𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖞 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖑'𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖔, 𝖔𝖋𝖋 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝕾𝖊𝖑𝖘𝖚𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖊, 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓 𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖘𝖒 𝖒𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉, 𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖞...

They ask me what I do all daynow I've left the working life,"Oh nothing much," I always sayand spare them all the strife. But today I rose and breakfasted,and stripped the bed down bare,put three loads of washing onand hung...