and I just get bored

Cerith-Suffolk-2011I’ve lived in front of the screen for the past while, fingers turning cold and eyes druggy red, square shaped. I go for walks in the tube, up and down and trusting the signs, the screen still sticking to my face like a placid cloth. hurrying, but aimless, wanting to get to the end of term without knowing what comes next. I can’t look out the window so I look at the floor.

deep sea

the breakdown on return, what’s missing? there’s something twisting inside you, tadpoles of distraction, and a cloudy waterfall melting my breath away. the words grow in my mouth, thorn-like and uncomfortable. I reread notebooks, but the excitement of indecision, the unexplored, has turned stale like long-worn bed sheets.

what else is there?

I reconstruct dreams, walking backwards. I close my eyes deep down a turquoise whale tank, folds of water lifting me above ground. across the road screen waves bathe someone in dried-up flickers of light all day, all night. continuous distractions, the hypnotic unknown.

Babe, I’m gonna leave you

the ginger ale-drunkard
is throwing pebbles against rocks
outside the extinct pub
with averted windows
nobody knows of his wishes

Think of death
says the cemetery gate
I imagine myself thinking
then paint my lips bright red and pierce
rotting bladder wrack in my pocket
with sharpened finger nails

and so I enter the world
today I will concern everybody
nobody concerns me

Old Eagle, London 2011

Old Eagle, London 2011

februari 13

double exposurenär galenskapen tar vid, sprider sin doft av nattlig snö och jord. jag springer runt i mullvadens tunnlar långt inne i hjärnsmeten, en kletig vettvilling. vad ska det bli av allting? alla avhuggna trådar. jag kan börja på nytt, åka långt eller återvända hem.

for hanna

let’s get drunk and ignore all the calls. just you and I hanging around bars, smiling coyly because we share secrets nobody else knows. no lies. I can tell everything from the expressions dancing around your face, the subtleties and psychological defences. the thick night drags us across town and we stumble before the cyborgs of the Old street roundabout, laughing in affinity. laughing at death as he stands in the doorway, clipping his nails.

we take our time choosing the right wine. perhaps we cry a little, floating far away into a celestial universe, peering down at the sea of trees. moments when you realise anything’s possible before it sinks back into the depths, fading away in the morning haze.lee miller