TreyOfRuin@aol.com

[Adjust halo in rear-view mirror]

Does my head look big in this?

[Peel the sky from heaven]

All those peppermint stars and cola swirls and

Hitchhiking cookie-dough dreams

Welcome to the astral-plane departure lounge

This is where flight-paths and freeways elope

And the angels are all tattooists with attitude --

Babydolls, rawk stars, mascara queens

Like an Aztec obsessed with guns

Or a crucifix in Jell-O

[Brush passed Jesus in the Job Centre]

Holy shit

[4000 metres of laughter]

Happiness measured in smiles alone is ignorance

Privy, sir, it is you, not the dykes, who are delluded

[Reflection slips off glass and spits a scream into the gutter]

Am I too opinionated?

Sometimes you look at me as though I'm

A piece of cheese in an airtight container

Just waiting for the chance to go mouldy

[Skiing spiders surf like reindeer across the windscreen]

And the world is just a she-shell of volcanoes I suppose

You'd never understand what lies beneath

[Avalanche]

But there are snail shells and bomb shelters

[Affectionate mid-finger salute]

Appleskins are armour too

[Exit stage]