'i'll tell you this...
no eternal reward
will forgive us now
for wasting the dawn'
jim morrison
you know what you want to do
what you got to do
you done it in your head
& you like it
anticipation is sweet
& you know you can do it
& that is a powerful buzz
~
but powerful too
is the no
& the eurgh
& the why
& the Invisible Wall
between you & the it
& when you get thru that
& youre doing it
& youre in the saddle
& its going well
& it seems easy
then suddenly it must be trivial & trite
~
& its so easy to stop
when you done some
you know you can do it
so you can leave it
& can do it when ever you want
no problem
so why do it now ?
~
so you back burner it
& loose yourself
in the hidden cost
of the doom scroll
wasting the dawn
& your eternal reward
until it all creeps up again
& you get back to step one again
& you loop like that
all unsure & halfway stuck
gasping & farting
it out
between
awful shits
&
bad naps
the
dust is filed
by
caretakers
now
curaters
forever
out
of
town
i can feel the sky
holding back
its greif
&
the earth
breath in
to gasp
&
i accept
all the
small gifts
that come
from ebay.com
i
piss
into
another
Armitage Shanks
down
on
a
Whiff Away cone
im in a supermarket cafe pisser
reminded of the boozers up town
by
the
framed
ads
on
the
wall
clubnights and party websites
hotlines and affiliated plumbers
~
theyd always be mumbling
in the cubicles up town
stifled snorts of laughter
amplified off the tile
loud nose clearing
sharp inhalations
gasps guffaws
an urgent impatient controlling vibe
then a clusterfuck of men
looking half raped
would
fall
out
together
their
eyes
all childlike guilt
that turns to empty bravado
and shout-talking in lists
they
fight themselves
back down the stairs
~
id be emptying myself
into old Armitage
watching out the corner of my eye
and sometimes
theyd
be
a
forgotten wallet in there
fringed in fine white dusting
maybe
a rolled up cityboy fifty
on the pissy floor
or
just
some sick
on a turd
~
id go back to sit down
happy with my heavy drinks
id
be
going
soft
inside
id feel like home and nowhere
in tune
with the bars
stained timber
loser
serenade
~
if i had any wraps of madness
theyd
be
saved
for when im somewhere
i
can
control the music
id rather
be
in
private
when i talk total balls
hooked on rolling news
laughing at my shoes
~
gurning faster-miles-an-hour
and playing only intros
is
best
with
few
witnesses
smashed in a similar delusion
from timeout.com
HUGS
a
hug
a solid human hold
is
the
best
essential
medicine
in these touch screen
days
science agrees
late as usual
and
im
like
duh
DAYS
days are long
so long
birds
are
black flicks of a nib
against
a
grey nothing sky
RUG
the glass people
are tanned
with
evened white teeth
they climb out the sitcom
with
their
vivid lives
and gasp for air
on
the flat reality
of
a
hardwearing rug
from pinterest
