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Black Bats at the Leisure Centre
They're clicking
eating our flies
in the darkness
the somnelent ideal
of the sky
spinning
I like the air
a radiator grinning
blood red teeth
In summer
the sun
doesn't die
The bats don't
die the flies
suck our heads
and die in the bats
the bat's head
juice nourishment
spins out our
cranium into
the bats spitting
red blood on their
teeth little
clicking bastards
freaky will
they won't
they wankers
