dearRichard

fucking shotgun
and your hand for egging it on.
your brain is mostly to blame,
I don't see how that slick
grey thing of wonder could
convince you of anything
but immortality.

1984 maybe wasn't that great, but hey!
1988 was the second coming.

The Braughtigal Son returns
smiling and shivering
in a body made of watermelon sugar.