This is like an online notebook, this stuff is not finished or often even started properly.

I like leather and milk and the smell of rain on concrete

One day maybe I’ll grow a beard
And stop dropping the ember from my cigarettes
Let my belt and shoe laces loosen
In rhythm with the expansion of my chest
Realise that innocence is something you find
And the most of it is just words
And mean half as much as a bruise
Less than a dropped pint
One day I’ll quote people I used to be mates with
Like they were dead calculators
One day I’ll stop repeating the lies I rehearsed under my bed covers
And just do what everyone else does
Mass absurdity
Maybe they did put acid in the water
Or water in the acid
Concrete was a social revolution
When we stopped recognising our own inventions
And started living in this alien place in
Which it’s illegal to daub our names on walls
In which its not enough just to breathe and let others do so
In which they want to build a wall and then another one and then a roof
And find some replacement for the sun
Put a stop to fire
And change the taste of beer

Word Riot

Here Comes The Avalanche in Word Riot.



How much culture ?
I haven’t moved for two days
My feet well oiled in the floors dirt
My eyes well baked
Absorbing ever faster
Beating at the keyboard
A new film every hour
A new band every day
New ideas
Drowning in vitamins
As over nourished and thick and heady
As the skunk I smoke
To keep my anchored
To this portal
Where time is laid out flat
And ideas are all equally praised and attacked
Where academics come to die
Where books come to burn
And idiocy takes hold
And beauty strangles itself.