GRANT FRASER (JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

I want to impress
the invisible stinking
nowhereness of life,

Balanced outside
near a lamppost
with icy disposition,

I want to depress
myself with nothing,
or glare into the very
eyes of the words,

Make sure they know,
why I use their faulty purity,

Hence why there are always
nails out,

Oh! don't say that, say this...

Say what?

Ah! nothing!

Explain yourself with rose thorns,

Drip blood!