Seven from Nowhere/ Drymouth

Epic finalistic roadtrip in Buick or Stingray; black.. break-necking into abandon's horizon.  Whisky on the back seat, piled like whale bones.  A hip flask in every pocket.. always thirsty. 

Naughty electric blues to slide around the broken bottle at the neck.. and with a tongue like leather, drink back every drop of white noise and feedback.. to the savage journey, the mission beyond

 

The radio plays songs about f****n' and the air is hot in the night and filled with smoke as... slip, she sighs and she sucks that cigarette to death.  Drymouth is a curse..

Drive you insane with no feeling and breathing dirt and smelling lust in the ever-revving night of desert highway.

 

No words for this drunk animal/ghost.  She's dark-feline.. hypno-eyes and  slinky, dripping movements, she puts her skin on every part of me.  All sensation of mine is in the curl of those lazy lips.. the pull of those lungs would empty my head, implode my heart.