at work

gone quiet

its all gone rather quiet.
cement dried on shoelaces, put us in our places.
another mircowave meal perfuming the air
its all a bit tasteless out there
finger showing bone and right hand numb
i think ive forgotten everyone.

crazy dreams

some kind of schooling institution smoking area. hannah was thin and had aged. she said something crazy to the boy at her door who kept coming back for more. she said she would kill me if i dared to step in. i sat outside fearing for my mortality. all else were unaware playing bang bang. brown doors, smells of antibacterial spray... whispers i knew, they were hiding something. she was the dragon i thought she was, and now i could really see it. green hair trailing down, fangs appeared where pretty teeth had been.. still, she had one fan.

whatthefuk

abismal, sometimes it happens. going gross. stale ryvita sucking the moisture out of mouths. speech dry as a duck. entertainment filtered to the consumer. yellow vision, the letters starting to blur as the hand ticks, moving closer to the place i want it. everyone disappears, following their dreams to a cosy hole, smugly staying til fat and eventually dead. i see the signs, as they all enjoy playing grown up, not realising that no one ever really does. we're all just pretending. its essential for survial in this construct. shouldnt be so immature should i? must be missing something. planning ferociously, making up time. bandaging relationships, cutting ties. another van speaks as it reverses. thanks for the warning.

water off a duck's back. something isnt working.

routes

"George Bernard Shaw said, 'It is better for a parent to be a horrible warning than a good example.' Not infrequently I see myself going in a certain direction, and I say, 'Hang on, that's like your mother, pull back.'"

polymers are forever

This is one of the saddest sights.

strange land

day 366 in strangelands. no wisdom. just plots to escape.
when eyes are shut there is not darkness.
there is a sailing boat and lots of arms reaching towards. lots of stars. open/close
the escape route becomes blocked and millions panic. 'so how often do you go running'?
the stuttering man calls again, poor thing. try and make it easier.
fred west is pruning the hedges, glaring. maybe cos i dont say hello? how the hell should i know. just water everything down.
'i go three times a week so the novelty doesnt wear off'.
back to the sandwiches. and a fine selection there is.
send them away with a bag of pills and a pacemaker, too sick to eat, too thin to move.
its been one year. i have drowned it out with sound.

suspect