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Month: October 2015

Death death

We were walking down the streets of Paris so I say “I’ve been here, I think” and as a reply my friends (who will leave me soon) mumble something incoherent. We walk around the corner and line up in the garden with gates for an upstairs party twenty floors high. People are shouting and a woman I know but with a moustache this time was there, and it wasn’t a feminine moustache it was a big bushy muttonchop thing, it looked good on her. Later I was talking to a… Read more Death death

Last day rumble

there’s nothing better when you lie down and your sheets still smell like a woman. People rave and rave about clean sheets but I don’t know what the fuss is about. Humbled… I’d describe today with a feeling of smallness and a greater sense. I love climbing, today I had two tiny bits of plastic digging into my heels and two bits of metal halting my toes encased around some ‘proooteccctivvee caasssinngg’  oh baby it was painful I’ll tell you, it’s still painful now. But we climbed a truly pointless… Read more Last day rumble

Backtrack to the 28th

Can this month go any slower? I slam my first real car in a pole and time pops a dozen chill pills. Enjoying the moment is one thing but I’m not. Waiting for my bike licence with a big lug for transport is eating my soul, moral shred by decent morsel. It could be worse, I mean I could have died a fresh young man and not a withered youngish man. Just waiting, stationary while life goes on at this drugged pace with little to no regard for wants or desires.… Read more Backtrack to the 28th

show me

I don’t care if they are unhappy I’m just nothing I care if they are unhappy I’m not anything I’m just me Like stains on a table or a scab that won’t heal. I’m just here for memories that you can pick at when you feel empty and tight as well Make my day you can show me hell and all it stands with not just the horns and the pitchfork show me hell Give me an urge, Give me hellfire and brimstone give me all seven circles Show me… Read more show me

Waking right up

a chosen solitude and my habits saw to that, I’ve thrown my motor skills down well more of a fumble and crash. So by myself I sit on this warm concrete past listening to sounds of loneliness not in its purest because there’s a desperate source of connection biding its time in a tile shape. Birds flying, stalking the bushes surviving in a world we will create With mosquitoes on my legs I don’t know what’s itching me more. The urge to get out or to stay on the floor.… Read more Waking right up

A First Collection of Words

Who knows I think my impression is based on what people want to see in me. Not particularly what I want to put across. Which I don’t mind because I don’t know how I want people to see me so they may as well figure it out. Fireplace. Like it or not, the adolescents.. no, all people have a lot to do with firewood in a hot burning red fireplace. Sooner or later you’re going to disintegrate into dust. Either from your own flame or another log rolling about in that… Read more A First Collection of Words