The introvert
Felt shooting pains up and down his arm
It was a heart attack
But he had no one to call
And he died

You're going to die
But there's a list of the 30 best cat selfies on buzzfeed
Something is going on in Ukraine, or is it Venezuela?
But it's ok...
Sherlock is back on
And you haven't finished Game of Thrones yet
God is a twisted sadist if he exists at all
But you have some notifications on Facebook
Don't think,
Just pick up the phone and play Flappy Bird
Let the feelies get to those thoughts that creep in

The revolution wasn't televised
It was tweeted
And its auto-tune remix went viral the next day

As I puff
And and **** sadly
On carbon monoxide,
Nicotine
And
5000 others
I think of Nixon, Maggie
And other incarnations of the devil
And realise
That in the end
Time
Is the greatest dicator

The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal reaching upwards
The water wars
The great migrations
The barbarity of a thousand roving clans
The infertility
And the old used as meat
Had made love a distant memory to those remaining
But tumbling over scraps
Navigating through shards
Gnawing at withered roots
Lapping at acrid streams
We went on
All we had done was hope better

World that's not real
Love.
Love that's not real enough for me.

Hollow sound
Distant voice
Tense strings

Love that's not real enough for me.

Resonant chimes
Brooding bass
Drawn out *****

Thank you Gloria Ann Taylor

My best friend was a dog called Hermes
And he's long gone
And a wise man once said
That love is a dog from hell

There's only one kind of normal
But infinite types of weird

Just the dull sighing of cars
As they float by my window
Projecting trailing shadows across the wall
Just the pale gleam of the moon
As it barely lights up the earth
And just a small man
In his bed
Seeing this
Hearing this
In this
But incapable of grappling with this
And what this is

the smoke rings live my lips
in lign
forming a long
oooo
that floats
dances
falls and rises
around me
and i am wrapped in smoke
and dusty memories
on this december sunday

Lacklove and manless in Moloch
Vile ******* in Moloch
Moloch
In whom I set disinherited
Dispirited
Listing to Arvo Pärt
As civilisations wax and wane around me
As towers are raised to the sky
Left to rot
Then lived in
As the furnaces of the world whirr on incandescently
And as I try to use long words to make it all seem better
And as words finally fail

I lost myself between your limbs
But found myself in your smile

They say
Have common sense
Be perceptive and analytical
Be careful
Be reasonable
Be moderate
But a deficiency of all those
Is love

Night bus
And the pug nosed guy in the suit over there
Staring me down
Is a thousand broken dreams
And the young girl down there
Who looks weird
But my kind of weird
Is a thousand unexplored
And the ***** with the cap trying to finish off his crossword
Is Gil Scott-Heron
And no one sits next to me as I spill my poison through the keypad into a cracked screen

There was a saint at the bar last night
He wore a battered shirt
And had uneven stubble
He cradled his beers
Peeling the labels off out of boredom
If you looked closely you could see the early signs of a receding hair line
And bags under his eyes
All he had said in three days
Was "beer" and "thanks"
He didn't look like a saint
And no one went home with him that night
And he ate 50 aspirin
And he wasn't at the bar the next day
Or the next
But he was a saint

As the black girl in front of me leans into the window
I wish I had a camera
Her reflection is forming a double exposure
Of her sad eyes
On a background of fleeting metro lights
Next to me some girl gets slapped
And is then restrained by an old man as she claws after her attacker
There are two Japanese tourists
They seem disappointed
Some guy is staring at me
And tries to nod a bit when I look back
There is also this kid with pale white hands
Half asleep and hiccuping into his lap
Looks like he might throw up at any moment
And in the midst of all the arbitrary existence
I'm sat looking at the sad black girls reflection
And a kind of perfection forms

Big words
Don't make for big feelings

Sitting in room 203
And can't sleep
Sitting upright
Staring at the door
With unfocused eyes
Imaging true love on the other side
For so long
That I can almost picture it
I edge towards the door
Just in case
Turn the handle
And sear it

Smoke bursts through
And crackling flames invade the room
I choke on the fumes
The hotel is on fire
I guess I was right

The man who had all the time in the world
For whom the clocks stopped ticking
Didn't know what to do with himself
And soon enough
Not an amount of time you can measure
But soon enough
He prayed for death
And to have less time

The baby
Who was born with all knowledge in his head
Went straight for the razor
And cut this whole thing short

You may win the rat race
But you will still be a rat

The Melting ***
Is a fallacy
It's more like mixing sand and water
One always sinks to the bottom
Usually the one that there is the least of

I used to turn up late
I used to take the long way home
I used to stay up in ecstasy or agony until the first lights of day
But I woke up today and found myself trapped
By the 6:45 alarm
By a bowl of Musli
By brushing my molars
By the No. 27 bus
By my desk chair
Colleagues
Targets
And slowly you smile
And nod
As they take you away
From yourself
Somehow

Somewhere in the path of my life
That noise in my head got tuned down
I started getting good nights sleep
I started to be able to concentrate
And control moods better
Started being on time for things
And I started eating couscous salads
And other things middle aged Guardian readers eat
The epitome of adjusted

Then you came along
And the noise in my head came back
And I lost all those things
But it's ok
It turns out the noise in my head
Was music

The late worm
Misses the bird

There will always be a gap between what I say





And what I mean

It's crazy how you can be at the right place at the right time
And become a millionaire
Or the wrong place at the wrong time and die In a gutter
And how arbitrarily these people are chosen
And how many things we can invent
To make it all seem like it makes sense

I know all these people who life pulls by the hand
Life never let's them get any rest
It tells them to sit up straight
But then gives them good chairs to slouch on
It tells them to be sociable
But then puts beer down their throat
And makes them sociable only sometimes
These people get no rest
And if they slip they just get dragged along

And all these people need to dig their feet in
They need to make their life go at the right pace
Or the right direction

We two boys together clinging
Absinthe drinking
Paradise garage dancing
Old people alarming
Tower top gazing
Hands clutching
Discordant steps searching
Sound of you falling
Giovanni's room emulating
Stop the lift kissing
Separated
Then returning
And turning
Swinging
Dancing
2-stepping
Laughing
Crying
In
Bars
Clubs
Roofs
Rooms
Corridors
Parks
Shops
Seats
Cinemas
Streets
And then returning
Hands clasping
Lips locking
On our mattress
Fulfilling our foray

Most mornings
Are met by a deep sigh
But at least
I don't have to whip off my covers
And find that I don't have any legs
Or no *****
Every morning

Nina Simone might be happy about having her smile
But I'm just pleased about having my legs
And my *****

Outside I have no influence
People are born where they shouldn't be
Objects of consumption end up in gutters
Chemicals that will slowly erode me
Are put in the drinking water
A handshake seals the fate of some low lying town
Which is to be flooded for hydroelectricity
The chaos creates a fjord with a great variety of fish
Until catfish take over and an algae that wasn't meant to leave a laboratory in Italy takes over and makes the water toxic
People wrestle with notions that no one else will understand and that none of the many world dialects can express
Dogs **** where they shouldn't
And it is only a dim reprieve in a cavernous darkness that I know the order of my shampoo bottles
Or that a weeks worth of muesli lies in one of my cupboards
Or that my scarf hangs on that chair by the door
And yet the landlord
Is a vulture
That is trying to take
This last scrap of rotting meat
Away from me

The moon is half full tonight
My spleen is twice as big tonight
And in my horniness
I hope for a nondescript passerby
To knock on my door
And wrestle the sadness away with me
No questions asked
But no one comes
And I wonder how many others feel so hopeless tonight

Every morning
I shoot through miles of tunnel
In a rattling tram
And people have forgotten how to look out of the window
At the fleeting lights
Which highlight
The graffiti
Which highlight
The primordial urge to create
Which has morphed
From the cave paintings of bison
To territorial pissings
Of equal splendour

People try to avoid eye contact
Look at their shoes
And everyone wears a shade of blue or brown
Blandly coupled with something black
But I stare at the tortured faces
Dominated by Moloch
Who is slowly branching his tendrils around my ankles
And I try to guess their stories

Something interesting happened today
I stitched the pansexual symbol
To the back of my denim jacket
And went into town
Most people didn't get it
But a few did
And their jaws hit the ground
And that made it worth it

If you want to love,
Knock your head with a rock
Until you are blind
To blaring truth

I remember through the haze of Hong Thong and Thai stick
Our sterile love
In that shabby hotel
Our stubble
Like Velcro

And I don't remember much else
Wasting away on my own here in Paris

Tim Hecker
And crowds
A match made in heaven
Earphones in
I glide through the crowds
Each glitch becomes
The next person (a glitch in nature)
Each hush
Becomes a waft of permafrost air
And the rhythm blends in with a thousand feet and faces
Elements become
Hustlers
Bourgois ladies and their little dogs
Stern old men
A lost looking child
Or
Those two girls - restrained by mall security

People try to untangle my expression
I am euphoric
I am exalted
By my music video
Playing just for me
Here
Now

I'm beggining to like these people
I hope the music doesn't wear off

A hero
Who talked people out of suicide
At The Gap
A Cliff known for multiple suicide attempts
He served In the navy
And particularly a battle that ended the war
His family claim that he saved over 500 lives
They called him "the Angel of the Gap"

I just found out that the ******* was a life insurance salesman
Check your silver linings for clouds

If you miss a beat
You create a new one
**** metre

I tried to be positive
And it's hard seen as everything dies and turns to dust
But at least
Every second
Is a new second
And I don't know what it will bring me

Oh god
If you are up there
You better have a good explanation
As to why I need to *******
To get to sleep every night
And why
You put those things in my dreams
And why
Good people die and **** get rich
And why
You created beautiful people
To laugh at subnormals
It all seems quite unfair

Send me a blonde
And we'll call it quits ey

You are reading a poem
And with most poems
You need to pay attention
So that you don't miss anything
You might even need to re-read a line or so
But don't worry
Not this one

Thank you
for giving me something to hate
because otherwise
my mind would turn to black holes
and that shot of the earth from the Apollo mission
and how much darkness there truly is

There is genuinely a poem on here
Called "My love for you is Like Violin Dubstep"
And it's fine that people don't read my ****
If it's the people behind such artless crap

I can sense a great sadness in you
You may wrap a large jacket around your shoulders
And curl up into a ball at night
But the sadness shines through
The tight ball
And the large jacket
You bring it with you to the streets
And you cut slices of it off for the people you talk to

I hope that one day
The cork
Holding it all in there
Pops out

We stood infront of each other
Ripping off chunks of flesh
Mixed with matted hair
We gouged eyes
Struck bone
Tore strips of skin
As pools formed at our feet
And kept going
Clawing at cartiledge
Pulling at intestines
Until we got to the core
And we were both bare
That was our love

As I dip my rod
In a vat of excrement
I wonder
What made me
like this?

There was human hair
On the floor of the metro
How did it get there?

I wish we could cut past the platitudes
And speak la langue franche
You and me
Cut past the trivialities
And get to the core
Great men have been there
Mapping 9 levels to the inferno
Or drawing solitude
But we put on pedestals
All those who divert our attention
From the core
And elevate to the rank of gods
The salesmen of longevity and eternal youth
But you and me
I think that tonight
We could chip at the terrifying core

I saw the germ seed of civilisation
In the metro today
Between Châtelet and St. Michel
It was stuffy
And the ones already in
Made it hard for others to get in
We formed a barricade
Made it look more stuffy
Than it was
Then tutted
Or rolled eyes when others tried to get in
There was a brotherhood
Even though all we had shared
Was the journey
Between Châtelet and St. Michel

Last night you saw past my front
And we connected
Eye to eye
Arms around torsos
Tongue in cheek
(My tongue in your cheek)
Right there
Revelling in the stupid jeers
And cartoon smirks
Unified
As one
Just like they sell it it the **** movies and flowery poetry

Except this didn't really happen
Because I am here on my own
Thinking that death isn't that bad after all
It's the approach
That's terrifying

Let's transcend this sad world baby
Just you and me
Past the sidewalks
And shrinking patches of green
And ministry of sound compilations
And the weight of infinity on our backs
As we circle one of the 300 billions stars in our galaxy
In a universe of 170 billion galaxies
Just you me and a mattress baby
That's all we need