kevin goonesinghe

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" height=82 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0408dfe1esnpes.jpg"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><B>Warp Experience</B></FONT><B>     |     </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Warp Experience"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     </B><A HREF="id81.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Articles"><U><B>Articles</B></U></A></div> <div>                                                   </div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=398 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0408dfc3.jpg"> <div> <U>a choice?</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> free will isn't that great</div> <div> being given a choice</div> <div> not so wonderfull.</div> <div> i've been told that free will</div> <div> is gods' ultimate gift to us.</div> <div> the gift of genocide</div> <div> rape</div> <div> murder</div> <div> advertising</div> <div> free will is gods' experiment.</div> <bR> <div> somewhere in the world </div> <div> right now </div> <div> as you waste time reading this</div> <div> a child has been abused</div> <div> physically</div> <div> sexually</div> <div> emotionally</div> <div> a victim</div> <div> of the gift of free will.</div> <bR> <div> maybe god</div> <div> never loved us</div> <div> enough.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>bliss.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> do angels dream?</div> <div> or have nightmares?</div> <div> an eternity spent wrapped</div> <div> in comfort,</div> <div> or maybe nothing,</div> <div> as a reward for being good.</div> <div> do angels remember shadows?</div> <div> or indifference?</div> <div> do they eat?</div> <div> or know the pleasure of touching a naked back?</div> <div> maybe they envy us</div> <div> for knowing these things</div> <div> and fear,</div> <div> as well as we do.</div> <div> do angels dream</div> <div> of being alive?</div> <div> do angels dream of sin?</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>chewing my way out.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> sleeping with eyes open</div> <div> surrounded by endless chanting,</div> <div> high protein, low carb mantra</div> <div> green leaf prayer,</div> <div> point scoring salad dressing chorus</div> <div> with a soya and bean hallelujah.</div> <div> we regurgitate t.v scripts</div> <div> dissect them for meaning</div> <div> of which little is found</div> <div> and above the repetative, knuckle stiffening</div> <div> tapping of keys, we search</div> <div> for cheap holidays,</div> <div> cheaper car insurance,</div> <div> gossip or</div> <div> a story to be beaten into submission</div> <div> by one of our own.</div> <bR> <div> i will rise above it all.</div> <div> with a roar and a pounded, bruised chest.</div> <div> my cry will shake the water fountain.</div> <div> knocking pictures of loved ones</div> <div> and dogs from monitors.</div> <div> they will stare in amazement.</div> <div> unable to answer a phone or collect a fax.</div> <div> i will crush carpet beneath my stride</div> <div> and suck the air from the room</div> <div> as i ascend a desk</div> <div> bacon and sausage sandwich in hand.</div> <div> screaming.</div> <div> my exit will rumble and remind them</div> <div> of their silence, until</div> <div> a phone is answered and the whirring</div> <div> tapping, sweating, eating beast</div> <div> chugs back into life.</div> <div> leaving me as a story told to the new</div> <div> by the old.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>cold universe thoughts.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> blackholes are pointless</div> <div> next to courtesy.</div> <div> stars are everywhere,</div> <div> galaxies and constellations,</div> <div> stars and moons,</div> <div> solar systems,</div> <div> planets,</div> <div> none can compare</div> <div> to a womans flesh</div> <div> and the warmth of skin.</div> <div> or sitting on your front step</div> <div> on a hot july day reading a book.</div> <div> the sounds and smells of a saturday market</div> <div> or shy first contact made.</div> <div> the universe is cold and bland,</div> <div> quite boring really.</div> <div> your life matters</div> <div> fill it with fire</div> <div> and purpose</div> <div> and pleasure and pain.</div> <div> fill it with risk</div> <div> and reward</div> <div> and reaction.</div> <div> nothing much happens in the sky</div> <div> look around.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>curious brown angel.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> her fingers sought out the imperfections of my face</div> <div> as though blind, she hooked the piercing </div> <div> in my eyebrow with force and grabed a handfull</div> <div> of my long brown hair to suck.</div> <div> her eyes, grey as leeds febuary morning, focused,</div> <div> constantly on something new to explore with tongue</div> <div> and touch not gentle.</div> <div> nails impossibly sharp for someone so soft dig </div> <div> at my throat in the way she does when sleep wrestles</div> <div> to take her away from me again. </div> <div> a short time too long but invited and appreciated</div> <div> by those like me everywhere.</div> <div> my curious brown angel looks again</div> <div> into me, wishing to figure out the mystery of this giant</div> <div> holding her with arms of control and strength.</div> <div> she is empty of everything but adventure.</div> <div> perfect.</div> <div> soft.</div> <div> loud and wordless.</div> <div> her head finds comfort on my bare chest</div> <div> as her nails dig ever tighter on my throat.</div> <div> sleep wins her over with a giggle and a kick.</div> <div> my envy wraps itself around her.</div> <div> both at peace for a time.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>damaged goods.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> you're not what i needed.</div> <div> as much as i wanted your flesh</div> <div> touch and submission.</div> <div> i didn't need your smarts</div> <div> your observations</div> <div> or similar interests.</div> <div> i needed your desire to please</div> <div> but not your taste in food</div> <div> or language</div> <div> or film</div> <div> or literature</div> <div> i didn't want to do a book review</div> <div> i wanted you to laugh</div> <div> and cry</div> <div> at lame stories and jokes.</div> <div> i wanted you to drink </div> <div> and not care so much.</div> <div> i wished for you to find someone better</div> <div> much better</div> <div> than i.</div> <div> you are delicate</div> <div> i would break you without thought</div> <div> and you would probably still love me.</div> <div> but know,</div> <div> i wanted to kiss your cheek</div> <div> and make you happy.</div> <div> i was just never brave enough to try.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>death in the family.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> my children die and i replace them.</div> <div> i feed and water the new ones,</div> <div> play them Miles Davis or Ornett Coleman.</div> <div> i give the pretty ones names and wipe their leaves.</div> <div> still they die, maybe</div> <div> from my cigarette smoke, or heat</div> <div> cold</div> <div> food, light?</div> <div> i can't make them live.</div> <bR> <div> all i wanted was a comfortable room</div> <div> but still i won't quit smoking.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>dinner in france.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> he strolled past where i stood,</div> <div> nursing an early morning cigarette and cup of tea,</div> <div> holding the duck by it's feet.</div> <div> and with head still swimming in wine i followed out across</div> <div> the hot grass and into the barn.</div> <div> i missed the first blow, the one that as i turned the corner</div> <div> had shook it from it's fear.</div> <div> i caught the second.</div> <div> his head caught between the concrete floor and club</div> <div> and then as he was hung up</div> <div> the blood came</div> <div> dripping into a pool</div> <div> beneath him as the convulsions tried</div> <div> to tear him from the hook.</div> <div> when he died</div> <div> he was undressed and trimmed and that night</div> <div> i sucked the flesh from his bones.</div> <div> i had never witnessed a death before</div> <div>                but i didn't feel bad about eating him.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>dripping.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> tears are reserved</div> <div> for occasions,</div> <div> a death,</div> <div> a birth,</div> <div> a union,</div> <div> mistakes revealed or</div> <div> a movie absorbed.</div> <div> sometimes though</div> <div> a tuesday</div> <div> when the thought of canteen food</div> <div> and t.v conversation</div> <div> is too much to bear,</div> <div> or when your cashcard hides in the</div> <div> bowels of your bedroom.</div> <div> crying makes you human</div> <div> not weak.</div> <div> tears release room</div> <div> for resolve</div> <div> and rebirth.</div> <div> when you cry</div> <div> you have never been</div> <div> more human,</div> <div> or more beautiful.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>easy like.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> i spilled from a dream</div> <div> into an empty day</div> <div> and an empty fridge,</div> <div> no matter. </div> <div> i had cigarettes</div> <div> and green tea</div> <div> and a step to sit on</div> <div> drenched in mid morning sun.</div> <div> it was nice until a </div> <div> child started crying and a </div> <div> mother, all flesh</div> <div> and anger</div> <div> screamed at me for keeping her</div> <div> awake.</div> <div> my silence provoked red</div> <div> cheeks and words</div> <div> of venom.</div> <div> i thought, through the noise, </div> <div> of the child growing</div> <div> up around her.</div> <div> it was sad</div> <div> and i decided</div> <div> that night to play</div> <div> miles davis for him.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>emma (my bourbon lullaby).</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> emma</div> <div> amongst the smoke</div> <div> and beer.</div> <div> the twisted wheel angel,</div> <div> designed to be loved wihout touch.</div> <div> navel length blond braids</div> <div> entwined</div> <div> with silk and glass beads.</div> <div> drinks delivered with a smile</div> <div> and big, beautiful eyes.</div> <div> every night a new outfit</div> <div> curves noted,</div> <div> her liquid movements</div> <div> flesh, exposed and committed</div> <div> to memory,</div> <div> a belly like heaven</div> <div> longed for</div> <div>            dreamed of.</div> <div> warmth.</div> <div> she is my fantasy.</div> <div> sheets of soaked up sweat.</div> <div> clean linen mornings</div> <div> no bad breath      or</div> <div> crusty eyes.</div> <div> just</div> <div> clean</div> <div> and perfect</div> <div> and returned.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>existence is futile.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> the goal of a person is to be </div> <div> remembered,</div> <div> by as many people as possible</div> <div> so that is known that their life</div> <div> wasn't a waste.</div> <div> that they ate and drank and raised</div> <div> others to eat and drink</div> <div> and maybe, one day, inspire.</div> <div> over time the slug trails of our lives</div> <div> will be erased</div> <div> and anyone who ever knew you</div> <div> will die.</div> <div> if you haven't done anything</div> <div> to be remembered</div> <div> then you won't really </div> <div> have existed.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>fake memory.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> age brings layers of complexity, added</div> <div> year by year.</div> <div> i'm left longing for the simplicity of my youth.</div> <div> i miss her room and the smell of garlic</div> <div> when she cooked.</div> <div> i miss the military precision of her clothes cupboard</div> <div> and the smooth skin of her back.</div> <div> i miss her energy and her slothfull</div> <div> morning rise.</div> <div> i miss her talk </div> <div> the way she made me cry.</div> <div> i miss realising she didn't love me.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>for the muse.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> my friendship is built on lies, always</div> <div> wanting more then i'm offered.</div> <div> not strong enough to walk away?</div> <div> a frienship built on pity</div> <div> but still we fit together.</div> <bR> <div> what maddening force created woman?</div> <div> the softness of your belly flesh, </div> <div> your smile</div> <div> able to make me tremble.</div> <div> the childish mischief and </div> <div> the energy of your eyes</div> <div> ingredients for the most divine drug i have ever tasted.</div> <bR> <div> you have given me more than i can ever</div> <div> hope to repay, you sliced me open</div> <div> and let me breath again.</div> <div> my reflection lies to me, tells me</div> <div> that i'm the one for you.</div> <bR> <div> i don't believe the mirror anymore.</div> <div> i believe me.</div> <div> i believe i'm strong enough</div> <div> to let go.</div> <bR> <div> loving you makes me ache,</div> <div> your affection is my addiction.</div> <div> your intelligence my nemesis.</div> <div> your heart my hero.</div> <bR> <div> you let me taste passion.</div> <div> and</div> <div> for that,</div> <div> my love will not expire.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>i hate your heels.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> take your vodka</div> <div> and paint the stink of your life,</div> <div> person place or thing.</div> <div> put it down and wrap it in words</div> <div> preserve the rot</div> <div> for the morbid </div> <div> and the humane. to marvel at, and sip wine</div> <div> on the house.</div> <div> and then hang it up</div> <div> like your balls</div> <div> and let everyone kick them</div> <div> with shoes more expensive than yours</div> <div> take the shots thrown and the count.</div> <div> get up and throw again.</div> <div> throw your heart and hatred</div> <div> at their swollen feet.</div> <div> until you destroy yourself and those</div> <div> who dared say love under breath</div> <div> or in tickled ear.</div> <div> then start again,</div> <div> finally</div> <div> with something to say. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>light charcoal people.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> you are not the person you are </div> <div> in your head.</div> <div> you are not as funny as you think</div> <div> or desireable.</div> <div> when you talk people are not staggered</div> <div> by your insight</div> <div> or earthly, suburban wisdom.</div> <div> your words do not provoke thought.</div> <div> are you boring inspite of your</div> <div> well planed and rehearsed</div> <div> spontaneity?</div> <div> probably.</div> <div> when you walk into a room,</div> <div> people notice and then blur</div> <div> your face.</div> <div> isn't that thingy? they'll say.</div> <div> what's his face, that guy, you know.</div> <div> you are like all the rest,</div> <div> like me,</div> <div> a shallow dip in the puddle of a mind.</div> <div> crazy in your own world,</div> <div> average in others.</div> <div> but you matter to someone</div> <div> and that is what counts.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>love.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> she was thirteen. not beautifull.</div> <div> i found her for six hundred pounds and </div> <div> she agreed to get me to work </div> <div> everyday</div> <div> so that i could complain at how boring this all was.</div> <div> i saw all the others driving</div> <div> wallets and ego</div> <div> and inside my bucket i laughed.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>mine to go.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> it's all fairly nice</div> <div> i suppose, i think</div> <div> as i perch almost comfortably</div> <div> in a cracked leather armchair</div> <div> surrounded by paintings,</div> <div> bland linear compositions</div> <div> of mugs of milky coffee.</div> <div> mounted on a small table in front</div> <div> of me is a mug of milky air and coffee</div> <div> that could have bought me a ten deck.</div> <div> the window lets me see down</div> <div> onto the crowns of consumers</div> <div> as they scurry around like dogs.</div> <div> over the road</div> <div> a window sits, like an open mouth</div> <div> displaying the teeth</div> <div> of an identical coffee shop</div> <div> complete with linear compositions</div> <div> and milky air coffee.</div> <div> escher would be proud.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>my candyfloss moment.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> opposite a petrol station i stopped</div> <div> with glued feet.</div> <div> ears leaking coltrane.</div> <div> there</div> <div> like a sickly sweet film scene</div> <div> without an orchestra</div> <div> a sky of blue</div> <div> and pink and puple candyfloss clouds</div> <div> leaving trails good enough</div> <div> to eat.</div> <div> like the stuffing from a torn cushion.</div> <div> a present left by a gratefull sun.</div> <div> i stood</div> <div> looking</div> <div> smoking</div> <div> making myself happy</div> <div> and late for work.</div> <div> gladly. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>my friend the bullet.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> i was fifty up after borrowing</div> <div> ten from a friend.</div> <div> the bullet had been good to me</div> <div> bouncing around with kindness</div> <div> and landing</div> <div> where i needed it to.</div> <div> i bet safe all night</div> <div> covering rows and leaving only four</div> <div> or five numbers that counld burn me,</div> <div> but then the beer took hold.</div> <div> challenging me</div> <div> to lay it all on the line.</div> <div> it wanted me to pick red</div> <div> or black,</div> <div> odd or even</div> <div> red or black.</div> <div> i wanted to be in the back of a taxi,</div> <div> mortgage money cuddling my pocket</div> <div> as i watch neon, gathering signs float by.</div> <div> i wanted to watch a good de niro film</div> <div> sucking on a beer to keep my peak.</div> <div> the coward in me was challenged</div> <div> and lost</div> <div> and i picked</div> <div> fifty fifty chance</div> <div> i lit one up and sucked deep on the filter</div> <div> as the bullet spun</div> <div> indifferent</div> <div> as always.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>nail broken skin.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> we loved from distance</div> <div> for months.</div> <div> through messages.</div> <div> typed words</div> <div> that created images</div> <div> of her lips, her hair and the look on her</div> <div> when she came.</div> <div> her passion enough</div> <div> to scare me, my greed for her flesh</div> <div> feeding her.</div> <div> encouraging her.</div> <div> i imagined her flesh</div> <div> impossibly smooth.</div> <div> hips narrower,</div> <div> breasts larger.</div> <div> she became perfect.</div> <div> i rejected her mind and </div> <div> her traits,</div> <div> they were unecessary.</div> <div> i made her cry,</div> <div> i made her want me.</div> <div> she sent letters and cards, words</div> <div> from her heart.</div> <bR> <div> i never said i'm sorry</div> <div> and meant it.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>newsprint blues on a bucket seat.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> bombs get dropped,</div> <div> prices raised,</div> <div> children grow then go away</div> <div> only to return and linger</div> <div> like i did, do.</div> <div> athletes get caught</div> <div> like cheating husbands and wives</div> <div> but not forgiven</div> <div> only forgotten,</div> <div> for now or when required.</div> <div> music still moves me, some times,</div> <div> like good art </div> <div> and good wine.</div> <div> my car breaks down</div> <div> for the sake of breaking.</div> <div> i write for the sake of nothing</div> <div> and smoke</div> <div> and spend too much.</div> <div> justice still hides</div> <div> seen, lurking in shadows</div> <div> by those who lust for red vengeance.</div> <div> love is flung </div> <div> like the frisbee of reason.</div> <div> indifference still rules</div> <div> but my laziness reigns</div> <div> supreme.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>nice body, nice neck.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> my guitar sits in the corner</div> <div> alone, but loved, by an idea.</div> <div> it's hollow wooden body </div> <div> waits,</div> <div> for someone,</div> <div> anyone,</div> <div> for me,</div> <div> to fill it with something</div> <div> worthwhile.</div> <div> every now and then i pick it up</div> <div> and caress it with a cloth.</div> <div> i rid it's body of dust, and play</div> <div> i try to make it weep</div> <div> sing</div> <div> roar something primal.</div> <div> i try to fingerpick the blues,</div> <div> some albert king or john lee hooker</div> <div> but soon</div> <div> always</div> <div> i tire of not being a natural</div> <div> and my guitar sits in the corner</div> <div> waiting for me to give it a life.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>otherfish.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> a wooden bowl of soon to be rotting fruit.</div> <div> decorate the lounge area.</div> <div> on a table with glass of beer</div> <div> and ashtray overfowing,</div> <div> tea stained mug and plates</div> <div> with orphaned noodles that</div> <div> swim alone in soy sauce</div> <div> and chilli broth.</div> <div> i lounge</div> <div> and watch fish </div> <div> as they clean their tank and stones</div> <div> dancing plants and bogwood.</div> <div> they swim and clean and then forget</div> <div> ..... and clean again.</div> <div> i feed them</div> <div> cucumber</div> <div> brine shrimp</div> <div> flakes of fish food.</div> <div> and wish i was </div> <div> otherfish.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>potential.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> what the fuck is a normal life?</div> <div> sunday roasts </div> <div> and football matches.</div> <div> broken hearts</div> <div> and forty eight hours freedom</div> <div> before it starts</div> <div> again and again.</div> <div> weeks and months</div> <div> minutes turning into decades</div> <div> leaving most of us behind,</div> <div> walking your dog.</div> <div> fucking on a saturday night.</div> <div> drinking beer</div> <div> smoking cigarettes</div> <div> and wishing </div> <div> we'd lived up to our parents </div> <div> dreams.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>reasons.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> i should be writing</div> <div> instead i pick at the nail on my small toe.</div> <div> the page stays clean</div> <div> as a piece of nail and skin is torn</div> <div> slowly from my toe</div> <div> leaving</div> <div> a sting and the reality of pain.</div> <bR> <div> i listen to Dylan.</div> <div> i listen to Tom Waits</div> <div> i stare at the page</div> <div> mocked by it's purity.</div> <div> more nail is peeled back</div> <div> leaving my toe open to infection.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>removing stains from the heart.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> i typed with a fury, burning words into the paper,</div> <div> words weaker than the impact of my fingers on the keys.</div> <div> my floor transformed into a cliche of scattered paper, </div> <div> rejected thoughts, flat, flavourless.</div> <div> my throat burned with whisky and cigarettes,</div> <div> my armpits and forehead dripping.</div> <div> my words needed to kill.</div> <div> to hurt you.</div> <div> but all they did was frustrate me.</div> <div> i wanted to tell you that you'd failed me</div> <div> for you to know how rejection felt.</div> <div> but i never rejected you. nobody did.</div> <div> the keys tired of my effort, refusing to carry any power.</div> <div> i wanted to break your smile and tear your laughter </div> <div> to shreds.</div> <div> but they wouldn't share the workload.</div> <div> so i asked them.</div> <div> what gave you the right to be so damn happy?</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>room for one.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> darkness lives</div> <div> behind the smiles and</div> <div> informal acceptance of strangers.</div> <div> it breeds,</div> <div> on silence</div> <div> at dinner tables</div> <div> or in front of a t.v,</div> <div> on a policy of ignorance.</div> <div> its world surroundes </div> <div> my candle flame and bourbon glass</div> <div> and the glow</div> <div> of my 3am cigarette.</div> <div> but when the world</div> <div> is dark, my mind </div> <div> is free,</div> <div> and fed by darkness</div> <div> it contemplates</div> <div> the idea</div> <div> of light.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>seeking a following.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> men want love</div> <div> as much as they can swallow.</div> <div> they want it in flesh and open</div> <div> minded obedience.</div> <div> ready to serve them and be worshiped by others.</div> <div> men want to be envied,</div> <div> and free</div> <div> but loved </div> <div> and adored.</div> <div> a woman to worship</div> <div> sometimes.</div> <div> who turns her cheek in the face of guilt.</div> <div> they want love</div> <div> unconditional.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>searching for the past now.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> the world got boring on me</div> <div> when the drunk faded</div> <div> and those who had spent time</div> <div> with a clear mind</div> <div> had found a way</div> <div> and had made it.</div> <div> it was catch up time,</div> <div> drinking had become social,</div> <div> possessions, not knowledge, critical.</div> <div> i wondered where the thinkers were,</div> <div> the dreamers, with thick morning heads</div> <div> and starved bellies.</div> <div> a wave of creation has swept up</div> <div> and left me amongst the sand</div> <div> of adults.</div> <div> although the drinkers and dreamers</div> <div> poets, painters and readers</div> <div> and friends had spread,</div> <div> there was still her</div> <div> with voice and opinion</div> <div> and flesh and values.</div> <div> she gives me these words</div> <div> and a reason</div> <div> i don't think i deserve.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>soul varnish.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> he drank beer until it left him swollen</div> <div> full of slurred wisdom and affection for strangers</div> <div> he would try to lure into flesh only.</div> <div> through cigarette smoke and belting choruses</div> <div> from songs past their prime he gathered any</div> <div> who found him worthy of their glazed attention</div> <div> short lived as tunes burst from his lungs.</div> <div> still buried under the primal calls and garbled</div> <div> conversation of weekends.</div> <div> as the night closed and we staggered away</div> <div> to a painfull morning</div> <div> he sat alone until ejected by those with clear heads,</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>tenth day in june.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> days</div> <div> sweaty, like a </div> <div> film covering</div> <div> my body. fingers </div> <div> covered</div> <div> in salt, which</div> <div> i lick.</div> <div> nothing is cold </div> <div> enough</div> <div> not beer</div> <div> not ice,</div> <div> my cigaretes taste</div> <div> like dust</div> <div> no matter</div> <div> i'll quit</div> <div> tomorrow.</div> <div> today i'll stick to things</div> <div> and read</div> <div> and eat cake, until</div> <div> the sun makes my </div> <div> head</div> <div> hurt.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>the bedroom window.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> outside of her i have failed.</div> <div> outside there exists that guy that</div> <div> just will not die.</div> <div> he mocks me,</div> <div> with less than perfect teeth </div> <div> and no motive for breathing anymore.</div> <div> that guy who does not question why he wakes</div> <div> daily, to drag his feet through life.</div> <div> a slow burial in a mound of meaningless </div> <div> paper surrounded by worn carpet</div> <div> and strangers on first name terms.</div> <div> witnessess to an existence i wish to reject.</div> <div> outside of her i am not warm to the touch,</div> <div> my voice unable to wrap itself around jokes</div> <div> or common courtesy.</div> <div> outside there are no white lillies or chocolates</div> <div> to share.</div> <div> no twos on cigarettes</div> <div> or cold bottles of beer against the warmth</div> <div> of her belly.</div> <div> i wrap myself in her again and forget</div> <div> one more reason to go outside. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>twisting the wheel.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> i scream out though fiery breath</div> <div> for anyone.</div> <div> the one i picked out dancing earlier.</div> <div> her hips and ass moving for me, not music.</div> <div> as i drown in bourbon and beer and become</div> <div> wrapped in dancing marlboro smoke. i call to her</div> <div> with lustfull, red eyes.</div> <div> willing her to return my call with her own.</div> <div> i memorise her movement, her hair, her smile,</div> <div> for later use.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>work wounds.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> work is a greyness</div> <div> that weeps from its</div> <div> nine to five wounds</div> <div> infecting the day</div> <div> surrounding it.</div> <div> each one building toward</div> <div> the promise of a </div> <div> break.</div> <div> a lie in</div> <div> a duvet shared</div> <div> with naked contact.</div> <div> but the more you</div> <div> enjoy your morning belly flesh</div> <div> the more grey</div> <div> seeps into that next</div> <div> working day.</div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>