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See radish turrets stuck wit tumor lights around hotel
lika glassblown Russki castle sans Pinko plight,
only Ebsolute voodka fountains. Gaggle fo drink?

Hundred ruble, cold kesh only. Step up y molest
hammer y chicklets studded en ruby y seppire almost
bling badda bling. Question? No question! Prick ear.

Coroner diagnose hotel as king o hotels ’cos luxury
is eberyting. Hear sound speaker sing “I get laid in me Escalade
but I first sip glass of Cristal / den I whip out me pistol.”

Non worry. No pistol en hotel, only best surgeon fish y beluga
bedtime special. Deelicious. But before you tuck en king o
water bed, befo you watch pay- pa- view,

Be peripatetic y behole snow bears merry en a ball o go
be roused bine molten sauna where Babushkas bap your tush
wit boar bristle switch. No chillins allowed, vide kid. Mo mo?

Blood rust has been Windexed to amber shine,
insurrecta’s marauding soul wetted into papa- machetes,
looted radio back en turtle- doved municipal hands.

Here, city o ebening calm, ignis- rilers gone.
If you want true history, go watch tailor y milna
make magic. Dim more revolutionary den artist.

If you dream fo Paris, Paris Hotel right outside
atrium, beyond sand dunes, which form y disappear
like mekkinations o human digestion. Sand swirl

to otherworld land where blankets de weight o human
bodies tatter y pill. No tatting, no pilling here. Sand will
be en your eye, only sometimes.