I Am Deluded
all those hints are there beneath the crust a complete set of clues to suss out but these lack of words feel like a ruse or just a new way to discuss doubt without alluding to those ambiguous and quiet refusals to speak out loud but it could come out of the blue into the the thought process of wanderlust but i wonder can we even adjust when compromise provides a time to revise those age...
it will never happen this time or ever more only but to try again will end just like before friends are only friends but you are something more speak to me and i will listen you make it hard to ignore the messages you send are sometimes pained and sore you cant put me on the mend to shoot me up and score i was driven round the bend the engine made a roar all outside did blur and...
smoke came out into the room like milk into tea in thick muscular white but the smell was pine and soap when it touched the ceiling it met it as if it were two football teams shaking hands the room was a mess so was i a mess i came and went and took on age and dropped myself back into a kind of youth every other couple of seconds and in the laziness of the air and the unknown...
Chopin and Bang
i cycled my bike away from the busy street full of bags and buggies and umbrellas with music in my head thudding from a half broken mp3 player no brakes and handlebar loose as spaghetti i tried to get around people off the path and on again when i hit a curb the back wheel exploded i had to leave the bike locked against a tree by the canal
it felt a bit different today i sat by the window where the hot light came in onto my back while listening to qawaali and the sound like a fast lava lamp soaring melting mixing falling down wordless messages that say more than i often do to myself in off peak times for the rest of the day was different i could strum anything and it would make a good chord the world at calm concert...
colourschanges and aesthetics in benign minutes
the curling hot sweetness of some imagined palm tree lined pavement softly grey as a cushion a couch to sit upon alongside the canal bursting into skittles making little noises groaning by regardless of raindrops seeping through to an unknown green ground or an eternity of a wet colour shoulder in debauched worries and hopes happen as if time doesnt care or give a frame to anything you...