Trail of black ahead-dont deviate-succumb:BE ORIGINAL BY AN ORIGINAL NOBODY
Wipeout with shades of the blues
the world is being turned inside out for a distracted and demented few absolutists.
reasoning is bespoke and not a matter of evenness
your eyes are not your own your mind is imperceptable to you
sealed-closed-hidden thought-implies death to conatus
slink off now and SHUT UP
DIE
No you can’t hear me so
Roll up roll up
Listen
Why am I here
What’s the point
Irish Sea Variable 2 to 4, becoming southeast 4 or 5, occasionally 6 later. The room felt cold and damp and hot at the same time. A bit of a shiver ran down his back. The night air flowed in.
She lay on her back, her feet facing his chin: one leg over the side of his body the other resting on his chest. They ended on the
Here she is 91 going on 92 next month, she wants to die but they won’t fucking let her- medicalisation and Americanisation she thought: anything to prevent the argonal and peace. Commodified to the last farthing. FUCK…………..
How did it ever get to this-if she lost her mind at least she wouldn’t know what was going on-being treated like a lump of meat is not for the faint or old hearted. That’s all she is-really-a tmesis, serving out her time to keep people in jobs-this could be for another 10 years-it’s all numbers she thought-life is a number she’s a number an inconsequential 1.
Her mother told her her creation was a mouthy slobbery kiss in with his thing done.
She was one of 10 and 6 dead.
The life she had was a callous one never quite sure of her footing.
She was a shift shaker appeasing to the call of the piper-her first step at 2 meant life was in your own hands.
A creatoreen of a child with dark hair and grey blue eyes thin cheeks fat hands and a meek slap me I’m bold smile-I’m bold.
So her face was slapped, regularly.
How she came to be in this God forsaken place she’ll never know-many a talk was had with her 3 children-let me go-don’t let me persevere in this hell-when my time comes please take control don’t let the state take over- sweet mother of Jesus-now look at me-a roll over-wiped down-fingered-breast caressed phantom by those in charge.
This place was a customised hell disguised as heaven.
PLEASE PLEASE
Her mother told her how she was-and wasn’t when she was a small girl-how true any of it was out of that bitter mouth she didn’t know.
She knew certain things-she knew to shut up and put up-she knew her brothers liked sneaking their fingers inside her knickers-and one tried to put his penis in but it wouldn’t go-she knew never ever to cry.
PLEASE LET ME GO
The entrance the surroundings the people, the dining room, music playing from afar-more laughter- the others focused stare on knitting and card playing-staff smiling and greeting her children with mouths wide like curloics-the net spread ready to catch their ignorance.
Your mother will love it here-
LIARS
Then Mercy showed up.
