dead skin with eczema scratches and thoughts of enemies and enemas in a world where uber drivers deliver lukewarm food where the sky was white now it’s an ocean of clouds that resemble the arcade game characters you grew up with –
I am reading Romantic Dogs on a bus where a two women are talking about how much they hate their children –
the keys in my bag chime against coins – my mind drifts
to secret languages
and handshakes we used as kids
– those old streets with dog shit and overfilled bins
dirty municipal swimming pools and empty swings –
and now in my ear a song that mentions the Satanic Bible and Steve McQueen
the facade of normality is a brittle, dry bark
if you come closer you can see the cracks appears
I sit in front of this monitor; spread sheets, lines and graphs are as indecipherable as Chinese Arithmetic
and the man next to me types away in code and talks in equations I don’t understand him, nor do I want to. He smells off, like he’s rotting from the inside and I know he goes home and wanks over picture of woman on the internet. I know this to be true.
Yesterday I shop-lifted a camera from a busy electricity shop and went home and made 13 obscene phone calls to random people picked from the phone book.
I wish I lived somewhere else.
I wish I spoke another language. The spread sheets are just lines and lines of meaningless numbers and the graphs resemble the skyline of a smog polluted city.
The girl who gave me my first blow job swallowed my cum and washed it down with a can of Coke.
There was a power cut at work and all the computers fizzled and died, the screens fading to black. I just sat there staring at a black screen. Without their PCs the people felt vulnerable, unable to converse. I just sat there, staring and I could still see line graphs and the cells of spreadsheets. Shadows imprinted on my retinas.
Walking across a road a car, it was blue, nearly knocked me over. Its tyres screeched. I stood there, rooted. Piss streamed down my legs. The driver looked like someone who was once on TV. He got out the car and I ran off.
I have a friend who claims he was abducted by aliens once when he was walking home from a party, some time in August. This friend also says he used to be a kick-boxer. I dont really believe a word he says.
There are shadows that follow me everywhere I go.
I see spreadsheets in my sleep. I also see body parts and carrion.
My father was a good man.
I have fucked woman on 4 different continents and I cant remember their names or faces. I am listening to illegal music. I am listening to it loud.
When I was young, about 4 or 5, I was certain that if I closed my eyes hard enough and long enough everything would vanish.