Oooh you're a naughty mess

rose at 0300 'ving 'd some kip and feeling uh-wake, innit?/ so got un-down, made food, put on cap. beefheart, 25th century quaker and poured wine into a glass/ 'tis fu'k-m's E-m-you, gig-os?/ off to the rest spot of parental structures with the alba in hours few, accompanied also theoretically, potenitally and-set, &set by my brother tho.'s lassitude is become so acute i fear he may not make it/ vell, a ver, as billy S burroughs was so fond of writing in his letters/ as ever, he also liked to write/ i think he thought it quite droll, and to teenagers, indeed to this then teen, he certainly was/ wot else...my blues channel swells and burgeons tho' the orb, blue room, is currently pulsing gently through my speakers, easy.../ the sik-nz wasp-ejaculated twain beaucoup to carry so i un-up'd mlz twain-century and smiled as my bones filled with sickly (tho' 'thick' w'd ov s'n'd'd n'c'r) green warmth/ bizat (or the hungarian rhap. no. 2, horowitz, carneige hall, 1953/ eh-koot and be amazed)/ uno lust...