I'm sitting comfortably..

see a lyrical Ugolino being devoured in perverse inverse by a thousand indifferent sons, they pick at his cartilage and see a trademarked nectar, string it about their necks if it were glo-in-the-dark go-go and next best thing wear requisite says the doorman

they bounce his eminently deflatable eyeballs like basketballs lobbing them through a coast-to-coast hoop in Hoop Bonanza A-Z, tussling and elbowing figments of packed crowdedness

there's a fetid and tartar-plated tooth remnant and they pluck it (once each) and wish it painted multicoloured and varnished with High calcium and its Low catalysts, use it for scratching the glitter from lottery cards and it will not break or have been swallowed in a prank accident

and they talk among themselves, the word's too strong (decaf that) they chirrup among themselves and they belabour their coupon-redeemed conscience persuasions with wry lacks of effusion re: all this so so witty and dispirited ranting against them, somebody put a cork in it

and the wind fails

and it turns out he's (U's) been gripping with the tenacity reserved for the dead or the mostly-there a glistering pansy which on more remote inspection turns out to have been a prop in some masque played fawningly before The Idea, and they all shriek themselves into temporary collapse in titters and blent whoops

suck on his fingernails and eyelids, tweak his nose-hole, pluck a lash and coat it with amber imitation virtually a breeze howls round the bypass

it's a Better Cell, stripped of its embroidered pads and coated in foot-square tables of graffiti and they claw it with his hands held in their derived hands and they snarl gnashingly and gnash with a snarling mien and hate flits wall-to-wall like an ostrich trapped in the whole of Australasia

his farts in jars, stacked up blocking the foam inlet and made into muppets, there is a scenario and it is scenic and there is room for people within it and those people are after all in it



actually I'd prefer garamond