The darkness, the absence of information. The senses gorge themselves on bruised shin bones while flaying arms reach for the mother of all switches to enlighten us. If only it were that easy.One eared cocked up to the news like a wound waiting for salt.. one eye welling like a cows udder waiting to be milked... one mouth full of sand pouring out castles waiting for the quenching tide... and all we do is wait.. and wait.. and wait.
One of my favourite objects is the egg timer. Its sexy bellowed waist ejaculating time upturned and empting itself into tomorrow. The glass, a safety division between inside and out, smooth, shiny and pocket sized. I carry it around and rub my finger against it, all the infinity of grains I don't have to feel.Where is my own waist?.. am I an egg timer pouring out and draining in? Squeezing the last cell through my neck before I die?
So what's this about? Responsibility? direction? The affluent west? The boy next door? Lets feel our way.. I don't believe in islands any more, nature saw to that. The hypocrisy of government and the machine of social order is just as biological as slime mould...Perhaps its refining the sensitivity to listen, like a cat and revel in the ability of each hair along my neck to feel your breath from fifty miles away. The narrow band between the stratosphere and the subsoil vibrate like frequencies and electromagnetic substations. Oh god no, not another cliché... must we 'tune in'? What are we scared of? Calling it religion ? Quaker Porridge Oats is not a cereal killer of deprivation, just a dam good bowl of carbohydrates...Sorry about the pun!Let the cat lay in the sun and soak up the vitamins. Let the cat be oblivious. Let the cat twitch and dream and leave it at that.. The cat has nine lives and everyone of those eyes can see in the dark...apparently.
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