slums globalfruitbat With slums in her teeth she sits watching the passing crowd hoarding the years. Desperate under their coats grasping the time as it flows to the Sea Sex? The peons have their murmuring words, their mumbling, muttering phrases, rife with need and greed and desire, spilling hope down the front of their shirts. Eggy ties and off-white collars screaming nothing into the wind-- As red and wed as infants’ mouths. 040908 what's it to you? who go blather from