only my honesty matters
baxter dury
scientologists without yoghurt
hippy private schools fighting amongst themselves
and beard trimmers and sloppy arms
with sloppy tears that splash upon the things that you left
your leisurely dressed boss and corporate all in one tiny team
rotund facial cheekiness and borderline inference
flirty cockney croissant crumbs in the morning
going to war with your best pals
listening to florence and the machine and having a roll-up
a man with soft hands and a dark heart
politically cautious with nice skin; hard-working
impotent white obvious people
with shocking clothes and awful music
red death and the science of being a nob
i don't like anyone's music
not mine; new world order
tiny little pale porcelain ants running around
in a large fish bowl full of aggressive men