as I journey through the veins of the frozen mandarin
with a crocodile trinket tight around my wrist
in a circus tavern drinking from the belly of a pregnant bat
my trilby hat in its\' top hat and tails
waltzes on a scrabble board with a beatles paperback;
darkest tales from the nicotine tongue of the mariners younger days
his skin and bone hands walking with his wounded words for his waxwork marionette
back to the days when his love for a bright-eyed jellied eel
peeled away his treasure map then stole his ferris wheel;
discarded limbs on spiders wings
flying through the misting eyes of a tearful strangers brew
all alone with his slide trombone in a karaoke mood
chocking on loves cabbage patch as he pokes and prods his way through his love sick food;
I see the village whore snoring with her adoring eyes lost on a roasted hen
as a wise old owl in his monkey suit
smirks naked as he flaunts for all his customised cheque book and pen;
my chicken in its basket grows cold on the folding napkins smile
as still I sit in waiting for an evening star to love me for a while
and sing with the voice of Doris Day a more truthful lullaby
and wait for the evenings bitter mood to calmly pass me by;
I sit here all alone with my flaming brandy torturing my meat
my aching back still waiting for the touch of shemale feet
perhaps because -because perhaps- this night wont heal my sorrow
I will peg myself on loves washing line and dry out for tomorrow;