Wednesday 14 March 2012

lit ref to boot

The music is poisen here
smattering applause
infected
The voices
patronise
across the board
a spectrum of varying clarity
concerning
the real message
I hear
sounds of the
combine
and the want of escape
wasted in success
This is the age
of project
Smiling Robots
crocodiles disguised
wear suits
and drink champagne
toothpicks like tent pegs
I hear gnashing of teeth
the collective grin
and see hip kids walk by
talking about
how bad is X
but X is so original
and X on the Xbook said
X said X to X
and
- totally man
and
Oh my God!
Fucking Hell..!
see
sun pound on pavement beds
frying sleppers skins
around swollen heads
melting traces of memories
that hurt too much anyway
the eyes
wide and wild
scared & numb
at once
maybe stretch out an arm
and eyes see
and eyes don't
and
eyes avert
we stinking dogs
Pontius Pilots wash their hands
over
&
over again
And I find myself sat here
on the surface
staying safe
scared of the darkness
every time I dive
I get the bends
and everything is ugly
All I want is a God damned joint
to
toast the smoke
to
no world peace
ever
not out there
not in here
only
laxative for souls
listening to the radio
it's not all bad
here on the surface today
just a little
rotten to the core

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