When two of your very 

own goddamn fam


tempted to

make you think one

was up for a fuck like the cool duck she 

coolly – really! – was,

and you bought her a rose-gold watch of

joy and contemplation, and

as a measure of your ever so foolish catch,

and a thing that was much much more

than bling: at the time, just then

your heart and 




And the lay-

bell that should’ve screamed out its warning

for such a long time did nothing of the sort.

So to C&K both I am grateful to yous now: 

for yous did teach a 





yous did teach

me true – most decade apart – the need to be,

the value of being, suspicious 

of those who claim to show love out of some 

excitingly terrifying 

sky of true blue rewarding,

in that reality I thought I did know so fine; 

but which sticking and 

kicking out to actually fucked-up 


really, in reality, was nothing much more 

than two pushing their sex: the sex

they chose both 

to sell and 

to buy,

to bring you down

so goddamn 

low, as low as ‘e[rs] are


gone and be.

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