(no subject)
*wandering around clutching a spiral notebook to his chest, pencil behind his ear, stopping to scribble another line now and then*
where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to fall
divine signs in the
crop circles in the carpet
sinking feeling
spin me round again
and rub my red eyes,
this can't be happening again
when busy streets a mess with people
blind and cruel they
would stop to hold their heads - heavy
can't stop
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
all those years
they were here first
hide and seek
who's going to find m
oily marks appear on walls
where [ ... ]
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life
where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to fall
divine signs in the
crop circles in the carpet
sinking feeling
spin me round again
and rub my red eyes,
this can't be happening again
when busy streets a mess with people
blind and cruel they
would stop to hold their heads - heavy
can't stop
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
all those years
they were here first
hide and seek
who's going to find m
oily marks appear on walls
where [ ... ]
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life