transparencies

We build we dig. Dig up. Climb up. Get angry, get mad. Think you can make a change. That our power is strong. Seems like everyone is starting to think the same. Simple chords and repetition. Cycles of sound, pigging out. Keeping an eye on the supply, is it really all communal? What is my contribution? Hard to settle and it keeps coming up. Your imagination has power, it makes trails of bread all around my bed. Your music turned into pop songs that are just cycles of sound. Seems that everything has turned too see-through, like a transparent baby full of tubes. Its embarassing for you to act that way when I can see why. It does nothing but show the worst in you. Now I have a lemon tree and they all stare at me. There's something so sickly about this goodness. Its not original, and maybe not even an instinct. I'll take more sweet things full of fruit, I just don’t mean what I say. Wise guy. Bread and soup and no dairy. Domino dissent and a Friday feeling to boot, sugar coursing through my blood, a small radio sits silently. Ive just made myself feel better and you can too. Maybe it will be alright in the end.

new things

my own home

A schizopherenic climate and a tear. The young ignore the younger. Too many dead wasps collecting on the windowsill, too many heartbeats for this heart. The metabolism weakens. Black and brown. The old faithful familiar feeling of being left behind, 'sorry there's no room', waiting at the gate, anxious minder waiting for you to disappear. Mrs cuthbertson riddled with parkinsons 'go to the wall, go to the wall'. As you spoke the water ran with no abandon but your eyes stayed clear. Scared of me? Take a look. Tell me the truth, I can take it. Tone yourself down. We set off in the warm sickly scented car. I opened a window and breathed in the fumes, you played madonna. At once, stuck in a car line and an awkward silence that we could so fill with great words. But somehow they are too great to leave our heads, and we know what they are anyway. Blood ropes tied us together. You are so changeable. Now the building is glowing with morning light, my glass is frosted with cool. We've got a lot to do, and ive got to go. Serve up this food. My victorian family all civilised with knives and forks. Some of them are dead now, but I get a posthumous glance…leave without saying goodbye. I see you watching me.
We arrived late afternoon, we didn’t say a word. We were on our best behaviour, not in the freedom of our own home.

post world

Your eyes are like mirrors, big mirror plates inside he saw. Black potions of nightmare. Seems everyone has changed round here, except for me (he said). Not true. Now you can drive.
Spun on a raft, with a stick for balance. The whole world was an ocean and now we had to make way. Buildings collapsed into whirlpools and trees sprouted only branches out of flat blue. Slimey fish addiction. A recent birth.
Another truckload of crap arrives, people pour in. Theres not enough space for all. Looting could occur. Fools want to pay, they insist almost. Somehow they've made it a competition, but no one actually cares to play. A news bulletin tells us all we should be wearing flat shoes. In the background an old woman yelps over her son's student loan, whilst yet another set of pain au chocolat appears. They waltz past gracefully for a few good hours pretending not to notice.
The whole world has become a warehouse, ugly and barren except for mountains of stationery which is kind of broken and useless. Some are proud of this fact. Those that arent munch anti psycotics

red letter

I shall not be told. Abandoned. Confessed to a fool. You could not have sounded more dulled out, like all the life was sucked out and you were left forever unsure who you were. In a second I was put in my place. How embarrassing. I stabbed the party, and something that was totally normal became humiliating. Such a pity they looked forward to it.
Staring through glass, checking it all out and making the most of the fringe benefits. This could be you. Thick fog hung over the unexpecting town, radio bleared pseudo upbeatness. We wont make it to work this day. Unable to reach through glass and almost lame to speak, although pounding heart told otherwise, and I made sure it shut up. Don’t go causing me problems again. We've been through this. My very own heart, like a disease.
I sat outside, redundant. We started to talk and I began to enjoy it. How surprising. Damn my judgement. I guess you cant see that to look at me, I would hope anyway. I can hide sinister. I wont make it home this night, I want to stay and discuss your life.
I called you, blood pressure rising. How can that be? My own flesh. Its like you never listened, so conversation became rapid and non-committed. I'll stop at the shop and buy booze later. Suddenly I feel like shovelling powder. I hung up. I wont make it out tonight. Why never answer my questions? Allowed to listen to mainstream garbage. And soon you'll become mini hitler, they promised. They promised silently, I only had to look around to see the results and the world I was about to enter. The induction was over. The glass shattered. I was in.

who am i

i aint great with machines, but in the golden age of nappy rash i barely flinch. ive got this burning bulb inside my head, it makes me jitter and im rocked into planning years ahead. with chilli flakes dipped in, nose runs and with that -the next 5 years have begun.

real drinkers have red apparently. spied daily. i guess i just do it for fun. they aint great with those machines, they look lazy and dumb. man sat with extended arm tool pushing buttons, eating packaged sandwich lunch. preservatives keep us fresh. drinking keeps us sane. rightly poisonous.

so you could imagine my shame at being told what to do....