Chemical and Animal.'We stir, hidden from the world.Chemical and Animal.
Vibrations excite us, taciturn brushes with pleasure That define and shape us,
Experiences that leave us both sated and thirsty. We drink the light and heat of familiarity and expel lust.
'Wrapped in rags, that in turn are rapped in suits -
Held through skin with safety pins that pull us to our source, In murmurs we urge our carriers. Unseen, we drive their fragile limbs and give weight to their petty threats.
'Can we be pulled from our thrones in these vessels?
Can we forage through dust to the gloaming within?
If I can disco
In The Arcadian Slums.Through crackles and hisses The radio bellows a battlecry, A long term loan of the body and mind.In The Arcadian Slums.
A gift to a wholly archaic process
Of torture through inclusion - scrambling, Yet unmoving. Flying static.
The rallying calls spills unencumbered by logic, A bladed nation blooming with insecure accusations, And shielded concerns.
It calls us men when the words explode, Entices us with silver phraseology... But we are not men.
We are children in the uniform that our grandfathers wore, Echoing History through our actions
Spurred on by
Tuesday, Part IV.My name is James Bartlett, and today is Thursday, but something is wrong.Tuesday, Part IV.
My wife is not here in the bed with me, and it is not afternoon. My eyes are clogged with sleep and the bed smells like urine. I don’t understand what’s happened. I’m sore and my bones crack as I move. My frontal lobes are on fire and the smoke from my smouldering mind clouds my vision from the inside. Everything is indistinct. The light from my computer screen hurts my eyes. I’m sure I turned it off before I slept. I scramble on the bedside table for my watch and the movement sends my stomach heaving. Retching, I fall from the bed and vomit onto the carpe
Tuesday, part three.Breakfast is formless for the first time in years. I eat what I eat every Wednesday, a simple meal of fruit. Banana, apple, orange juice. Simple, healthy things. But it feels unfinished today, not right, incomplete.Tuesday, part three.
But the banana has gone slightly brown, and the apple has wrinkled. The orange juice tastes slightly too sour. It has a use-by date of Saturday, and all the food is fresh, purchased a few days before. I begin again to feel slightly nauseous, a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach that I can’t quite identify the cause of. So the breakfast is bad. So I had a nightmare. So the BBC failed in something so simple. All
A hideous Chimera.
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I am a member of =macrophoto and ~r72 and *Apophysis
We must become bigger than we have been: more courageous, greater in spirit, larger in outlook. -Haile Selassie
You!
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I miss you! You should text me you big bully!
--
"Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art." Wilde
He's a rapper from my home state, and an amazing lyricist, I've got a hunch that you'd like him.
Love you baby-doll
x x x
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Enticed by your Electric Impulse Smile
CONGRATULATIONS!... you have won... a telegram from the King... or possibly a lifetime's supply of yams...or... something...
Anyway, that's your 1,111st pageview. Probably has some kind of numerological significance, I wouldn't know...Rejoice! Rejoice! Or don't!
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