Cities and Eyes I

Whose eye scan a city-scape, and see it like this?

Grey, grey, breasts, grey, grey. Nothing, boobies, nothing, boobies, nothing. Something, nipples, something, nipples, nipples. Zzzz Zeds, jiggles, ripples, bounces, boing-boings. Yawn yawns, apples, melons, omelettes, pumpkins. Balloons, headlights, pillows, planets, moons; and a slither of cum, aglisten, drools down a graffiti’d wall, in some train station’s public toilet. And outside! Waiting there again are the packets of jangling and jumping, bumping and bouncing, pleasure-flesh, kept in a prison of bras and shirts, levitating down so many streets. Get to the city, say the eyes, go look, go cum, you're free, you're young.

Not I, not Fist.


(To be continued...)