Words. A thousand words can say a picture, but what do you see?


It was all so different before The Time
When marmalade light could still penetrate
the prismic maze of layered polycarbon discs
Before all known sound had been sucked away
into a single pleonastic singularity
on the slipstream of a string of cacaphonic nucleii

Back then, Mr Schrödinger's kitten knew nothing of its fate
for The Time had not yet come
This temporal node from where the bézier curves off
at the wildest of incidental angles
A zero point of no physically viable reversal
Nothing would be analogous again


The videotape has been constantly playing >
and rewinding <<
Cycling, shuttling, looping, repeating over
and over
Picture quality now degrad3d, s0und warrped
and muffled
But every last frame is sifted through again
and inspected
Seeking out cues, clues, triggers
and meanings
You see, the first ten minutes have been erased
and now
we will neither know how the story begins
or ends


Are you?
It's hard to tell from here
Should I?
It all depends on you

Can you
sense my internal moral dilemna?
Are you
indignant or oblivious?

Does your swelling contain the matter of life
or death?
Is your burden one of delight
or despair?

I won my place in a well planned and cunning battle
of wits
choosing the best position of entry long before
the beast arrives

So I
don't just want to give up my seat
to someone
who ate too many cakes and chocolate bars

So are you?
I still can't tell
But then
it looks like nobody else can either


coiled for action
rolling in pastry blankets
green water melts

drifting greasy days
Nordic gods crave yellow sleep
errant nights return

crisp packets settle
the present is not orange
the worst years hit home

it's not black and white
bleak powdery wonderland
it is white and black


see the
amazing creatures
nature has randomly endowed them
with incredible morphing ability

in their case, a positive connotation of mutation
if you call destroying the competition
left behind in natures arms race
good (they do)

watch the
savage beasts
performing synchronised rape of their domain
dumb shits, defacating on their own patio

progress my ass
their empire will eventually suck its own internal organs out of its sphincter
like all others before it
though they will deny it to its inevitable conclusion

they have a vision
but choose tinted raybans to look at it
they have a clue
but choose to wildly hunt geese instead

they have a brain
but choose to override the automatic alert system
they have a choice
but choose the path of most shallow beauty

rejoice in your unobtanium-towered ego-palace now, for
your children will denigrate it
your grandchildren will desecrate it
your great grandchildren will decimate it
your great great grandchildren will never even know it existed


my
last thought
was quickly replaced
by another one shunting
it further into the background
then more thoughts come
pouring in, one
after the
other

ageing
synapses fire
rapidly, having frankly
seen better days. violent
collision of visions, so brutal
that they destroy one
another like racing
atoms at
CERN

now
the grind
to recall that
lost thought, that last
thought, the one that got
away. wait for the
bubble to rise
from the
bottom

of
the flute.
there, I'm getting
something, a vague shadow
cast over my rusty hippocampus
the hum that heralds
the approach of
that familiar
stranger

nope
it's gone
again. fuck, I
really need to tie
the bag more securely if
I'm going to prevent
the loss of
any more
marbles