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Food of the Gods
Ripper, nineteen and stoned and so fucking beautiful, languid with the weed and talktalktalking with the magick buzz. We'd torn the page from the 'phone book that listed all the Sainsbury's in London and were trying to get thrown out of every one. In number three, somewhere near Russell Square, he picked up a banana, telling me and the shop boy and the scared old bint in mink about how they'd come on a train after a boat after a cart after a tree after a seed after a cell after an atom, like an ancient priest in a trance.
Ripper, nineteen and stoned and so fucking beautiful, languid with the weed and talktalktalking with the magick buzz. We'd torn the page from the 'phone book that listed all the Sainsbury's in London and were trying to get thrown out of every one. In number three, somewhere near Russell Square, he picked up a banana, telling me and the shop boy and the scared old bint in mink about how they'd come on a train after a boat after a cart after a tree after a seed after a cell after an atom, like an ancient priest in a trance.