a broken valve in the back of my throat,

opened me up to the devil’s revolt,

a sinner in a sun-drenched land,

with a frozen throat full of phlegm,

no cough to squeeze it dry,

but oh it was dry,

raisin bread to film head,

a tangerine coloured mandarins,

songs laughed and said,

as they waited and waned,

ready to attack the candy of its sack,

so sexy yet dangerous flaming dandy holes of winds,

I gave my name to it,

I sang its words weathered and worn,

long lasting death wishes,

sober,

yet born…