Strange Bedfellows

A copper’s nark…
The cautious talk of a city under suspicion
A perfumed collision…
With the real meaning of a girl
Working in the dark… from the velvet shadows…
In the… black-wood of engines
YOU’RE in suspension…
In the best of all possible worlds
Furnished rooms…
In tune… with the frozen taste of money
A broken television
Flickers in the corner of one eye
A variety show
That goes below… the freezing point of numbers
To understand… an episode
Of a dream that money can buy
When a necromancer’s crucifix…
And fifty dead assistants…
A beer by a dried UP fountain
It’s the festival of the spoons: whatever that is
TWO scrumpets dance with rainbow feathers…
On the lines of least resistance…
Into the middle distance…
Of a supermarket tune
Familiar ground…
He stops her breath with the sneak-thief kiss of a roscoe
Love letters from Moscow
Calling for the hard-ware of surprise
In a jealous town…
Where desperation…
Isn’t worth the trouble
Meet your double… in an episode…
Of a dream that money can buy
Bye bye love
Say goodnight irene: to the magnetism of the MOMENT
The future fails to feature
Beyond the forcefields of their eyes
Decadant waves: Depraved Danger
Or a plaything of the rodents
Not quite the kind of creature
With whom they socialise