As Memórias Do Amanhã Longínquo

A Day Like London In November

Today is like

London in November:

Sweet wind

Blowing wet air,

The threat of rain

In the air,

City lights

And young horny

Blondes on their

Way to bars

With much less

Clothes than

They should use,

Because it´s a bit cold,

Less inside their

Shaved amazement.

It feels like London

In November,

But the river

Is still frozen,

I have nothing

Waiting for me

In the saddest country

In the world,

I will not sleep

In a rotten hostel

And my mobile phone

Is quiet, forgotten,

As it should be

When hands smell

Like pussy´s juice.

Besides that,

Everything is like London

In November

Without homeless

Searching for a dry place

To sleep,

Without the illusion

That some chubby spoiled

Baby, deserves a shot

Of my hell´s magma

In her holy fake

Fucked by old crippled faces

Fat pussy.

I know I was told

More than once:

“Mind the gap”,

But I´m glad I didn´t

Gave a damn about it

And I made my way

Throgh all that crap.

I´m the devil,

Even if you think

You are bad,

You are just the way I made you

And I´m here,

In this day far

From London

In November.

B.