Spring is hinting,the Summer will be golden.
love has left me juiced
just peel and pips
a bag of bones
with good grips
I see no future in this
I see no ships
Marooned, skint as flint
Drinking the last drips
Broad St Birthday homesickness.
Standing on guard in the lustreless passion void
Observing in servitude from the palm lined concrete castle
Some job this is waiting for fake emergency
Semi sentient beings chipping away the hours
in an irresponsible abyss, helpless
Tagging dreary delegates
sans pleasentries
unappeased, harassed old ladies
and kids
Always gliding sinister on some clap trap contraption
Some pre school zimmer frame from the future
Healthy kids with parents too lame
to enforce or fein to beg the benefits using ones own legs
Rounding up their herd on razor scooters
Circling jackals in the dim lit lobby
Doldrum dregs and deadbeats washed up around the edges
of what is deemed public property
while hip young things sucked into screens
sit with well coiffed coffees for company.
I guess
If you can keep your eyes open
it doesn’t have to be a waste of time.
home to be →
Clouds started hanging out at street level
dumb event
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Highland_Line
worth noting-london to mallaig by train, do -able for £45 without ypr!
Flatbread soundtrack…
(fragment)
There is a fly trapped behind the headboard dying
It missed rest in peace by two inches
The buzzing trails off distractedly
“I didn’t have an accent until I moved away from home
Now its stuck like a shadow keeping time”
Stirred up in the pissy petrol
Leaking from granddads car
Some Fading day glow of a washed out rainbow
Staining the drive
A tear in a pair of barely theres
And a smell like a vice for altered states
Not sitting so pretty
Watching a good friend
Sweating pearls
Asking to be excused early from the table
From Consuming recklessly
From Feelings growing wild
A Song For Dad’s Broken Foot.
tonight -
1. master and margarita performed by complicite - totally enthralled, majorly inspiring.
2.Citizen at the Nest. Loz killed it. Danced for the first time in months.
3.Cycling home through c/london. Saw a fight between a bike and a taxi, utterly stupid.
4.Last nights pizza hidden under the bed = my saviour.
Tomorrow -
My first day at market……
(!)
stolen
A car crashed outside my bedroom window at three am on monday night, The driver got out and ran away. Traffic flowed on regardless. Someone came to bandage up the remaining stump of the lamppost. I laid awake for a long time thinking about K.C.
SUMMER WITH MONIKA
Crush + Crushing
rough
By now I have a really swell headache
If we never meet again maybe I’d remember you fondly
The way things are going
Like those gone before
Hard to say
The coffee bitter and depressed in equal measures
You’ve got plenty to say for yourself,
You talk more than any one I ever met
You’ve got me self censoring
My own estimations of success
Tallying tales of non events
I’m not sold, I’m using words like ‘wicked’ and 'cool’
Talking myself out of a dare
And ready to bale
Paradise might be hell but worse is chicken limbo
Descending in the void of a lift
To a car park full of four wheel drive shopping trolleys with squealing wheels
Mouths full of powdery health foods
Fuck this for a future
You’re hot breathing on my face is insufferable
I don’t want your problems missionary on mine
Stay in your own greasy bubble
I’m out.
…and early morning sea sickness