When you monged so soft and blacked in cupboard, but other hands knocky, try to get in. ‘All right?’ ‘Hello?’ While you lie still, biting Hoover bag’s sweet dust in ee gob.
And better than the outside, really.
Then blink emerge at last, and all people gone, when now you needy, so needy, like a mimmy mim…
And when ee be retched out so long ee dry to fossilised munch, bending like a mad, angry with the ground. Absurd man. Shoot him!
Then ee welcome.
Oo ab welcome, in Blue Jam.