Oooh you're a naughty mess

brood not on loves bitter mystery. yeats

feenun oh-kuy/ slurping steaming china chai negra/ listening: blue nocturne, king curtis/ and today?/ well, have some writing to get done (for renumeration, thus matt in tone), some poetry to force out ('tis an acute pain when the muse is abroad) and must lunch with parents and that which constitutes/ will be flush come the week's end and mercifully will be able to afford more than the corrosive white star/ that such products are available legally perplexes me somewhat, but then at least i can get royally slaughtered for under a fiver/ nyse...