Oooh you're a naughty mess

doing riotously/ listening boy with the thorn..., smiths/ reading major works, swift/ drinking special brew (500mls, 9.0%)/ day without is bright and clear post a heavy rain/ as it fell on the thin metal roof at clapham station it sounded like stadium applause and the puddles bubbled/ saw bro yester and have discovered to my joy i can smoke skunk without daemons appearing from behind bushes, &c./ thus 'd a pleasant smoke and a few cans, returning idiot tipsy on a 9pm train/ must get to some work this after/ have been doing little but reading for the last couple of weeks so must affect some output/

drunk for 1200

i walked down the
road in the blissful
summer/spring air
dazzled, bouyed not even my
despair could conquer this
glory. so to the
park, a park usually
unastounding
flat and
grey but
today well
today i had a book of
monet and as i
looked i
thought
what need have i of monet so
i looked out over the verdant
park at the
lumious swaying grasses, the
trees, leaves painted by the
impressionists and i drank my
wine which was
hot and strong and tasted of
strawberries and many
people walked past casting
disapproving looks for here was a
man
drunk on a bench for1200 but i
snarled back
bending a
grin for here was i
transcending monet finding in
nature what an infinity of
masters could never produce
but then i looked at monet and it was
glorious...in those prints was a world
beyond what my eyes could ever
perceive and i looked
back at nature and it was as if
painted. my perspective was
renewed
the richness of possible images flooded
through me/ what a waste to live without
dying with the
beauty of
that which can be found outside ones
window
travel across the
world and you'll be as
unsatisfied as you were
here for
you are
asleep