Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up



What to do when your poverty is dire and absolute; when you are addicted to junk; when you feel, in your self-delusion, that you have not a friend in the world; when it is so long since you have smiled that your cheek-muscles atrophy; when the bailiffs are coming to evict you on Wednesday morning?

You read the poetry of Tim Boucher, occult investigator and smile contentedly. All is well in the world.