Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Sunday 27 September 2009
The muse gone
The muse has gone back to her garden she has put on her don't mess with me boots She has put away her fuck me shoes The muse has gone back to her roots
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