Films are just like friends except they’re constant
And their flesh is luminescent
Even when your eyes aren’t just rotated by lent chemicals
Newsflash, narrative can never die
Cinema has stolen the sky
And kneecapped Prometheus
That clumsy hustler
My lists are immortal
My escapism is cut from the fabric of the universe
Raise your glasses to ethereal tea leafs
To half inched experience
Death and smog to theatre!
That after dinner embroidery could never hold a flame
To the captive pugilism of the kino eye
In my bed I don’t know what day it is
Or the temperature of the monotony outside
I’m a captive student of a strangers internal clocks
To an industry of shotgun artists
Taking pot shots at God from many corners of the earth.
*Picture by Man Trout Ink.