looking at the back of a
pack of Camel cigarettes
at the cityscape portrayed
with its Masques and palm trees
it makes me think
of WSB
or Inspector Lee
in Interzone
or Tangier
roaming the streets
shooting up
in any good vein he could find
fucking freely
having the time of his life
writing ridiculous pages
that would be cut up later
to make his opus
I snub out my smoke
sigh
and finish this immortal
poem
The End of Everything is out now! Signed and numbered and limited to 125 copies. Get your copy at my Etsy shop
