In

In the milkworld
in the city
in between the feet
nothing is described as pretty
nothing can be sweet
in the wraithworld
off the coast
of all and pterodactyls
whirr the cogs of nothing special
turn the quirky axles
indecisive
existential
black and white and bruised
through the patches of deceit
my spaceship slowly cruised
hinder gaping
tickboxforthright
I could live here for a fortnight
But my structure could not fly right
onononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono
so we fell in flames