Category: Ghetto Star: Pleasure & Pain

Salty Saturdays: Reception – 06.02.2021

Reception – 06.02.2021

The reception was about as weak as waiting in the rain at London Victoria coach station.

I thought receptions were about a celebration of some kind, whether that be life, death or like earlier, love? Maybe, I’m not smart enough to comprehend the meaning behind them.

On the menu was a traditional Sunday roast: Chicken, potatoes, carrots and gravy. Only, what we were served was dried out chicken breasts, rock hard potatoes, cold carrots and watered down gravy.

My cold plate was washed out with cold hard objects, they labelled fine dining.

I was seated at a table with a pursed lipped smoker and her ashy fingers. Fingers that kept accidentally brushing my exposed skin and a wrinkled mouth that said, ‘forgive me, love. Your skin is so soft, I use the finest lotions on my own skin, see!’ then reaching out and grasping my hand. I lose count at the third attempt.

Now, I love apple crumble and custard but the crumble was more like a chunky apple sauce, with a crumble dusting. Topped off with cheap, lumpy, piping hot, sugary custard. My stomach was growling and the drinks were tasteless.

The reception was a damp attempt to please the masses.

Pocket

Interesting addition to the clothes I wear.

I add many things to this small, zipped, denim location.

Tissue, paracetamol, lip-balm, eye-drops, hand cream, lemon sherbet drops and a three page letter.

I wrote about 2020.

I transferred pain from my heart, to these pages, to my pocket.

I released everything. Yet, I keep memories folded and close by.

Maybe, they’ll wash away the deeper I stride into this scenic lake.

I’m blessed.

The only thing that matters is my birth.

HE

He fucked the world.

That bitch shed a tear.

He fucked the world and I whispered in the ears of many.

He fucked the world and I never gave any. ‘Fucks that is.’

He fucked the world and blessed them with his fuckeries!

The fuck he came back like, ‘bitch! I’m right here.’

I doused him with petrol and set his soul on fire.

I smiled at his inability to comprehend his fate.

Be around for amusement.

No goodbyes when you fall below standard.

There’s not enough air on this Earth for you to continue.

I fucked up your life and urinated over your death.

I am the angel you prayed for.

Block

I’m sitting in a BMW i8.

It’s black with electric blue around the wheels and the headlights.

The seats are leather and heated, my ass is warm.

I’m sipping a cup of hot-chocolate made with oat milk. Cows milk is for baby cows.

All windows are up, I hate the sounds of those grotty voices nearby.

Does it look like my car needs cleaning?

Only me and I’m stuck.

Is there ever traffic at 0333 hours?

I’m not moving.

Engulfed in thought processes.

Delinquent of 70% responsibilities.

I’m not a passenger.

I’m not a red light.

I’m not another car in a queue.

I’m not even there.

From the Files of Crow and Unique: Next Lifetime

I’ll perch on your chest and feel your heartbeats through my feet.

I’ll flutter around your mind like a humming-bird about to dip into a flower head.

I’ll dive deep down into the sea, to scoop up your waves of love.

I’ll fly beyond the perimeter of the Earth, to sprinkle my admiration directly above your layers.

Next lifetime, I’ll recognise you.

Next lifetime, I’ll hear you.

Next lifetime, I’ll see you.

Next lifetime, I’ll press my heart beside yours. We’ll beat as one.

Next lifetime, Phoenix will rise and burn out all the memories we formed in our lifetime.

Next lifetime, Crow will tear out from the heart of the Phoenix.

Next lifetime, Crow will paint every universe black.

Next lifetime, you’ll see nothing but I promise you, you’ll feel my love.

Driver

I just want to be Unique.

STOP!

Seatbelts, please!

I just want to be Unique.

GO!

Gain on em’

Run them the fuck over.

Oops!

Let’s get you in the sex.

Pause.

Seatbelts, please!

I just want to be Unique.

This is all me.

This is all me.

This is all me.

Driver, slow down. I need to watch my foes cross part way.

Beep! Beep!

Run em’ all down.

So evil on a Sunday, the day of the Lord.

Damn.

I told myself I don’t need help.

Can you hear em’ crying? Nah? Well move on.

I can’t complain.

This is all me.

This is all me.

This is all me.

DRIVER, SHUT THE FUCK UP!

I like listening to the rain, when it rains as I sit in the back.