buttttt i'll be done on 28th May, which is both good and scary
see you all soon!


A Short Biographical EssayA Short Autobiographical EssayA Short Biographical Essay
I can write much on this: The Failings On The English.
It would begin, of course, (and probably end) as an indulgent self study. Picking at inadequacies blamed on place. If I were elsewhere I would have spoken, I would have raised some other roof, bludgeoned some man to death with his own tumbler.
After this zealous self-restraint I would question apathy. I would blame this too on place, on growing up in such perverse comfort, sat in front of a dead world, not really minding, not reall


Should I Feel Guilty?Should I Feel Guilty?Should I Feel Guilty?
Should I feel guilty For opening the door? For letting the moths in?
So they may invest In the lamps pain, So industriously.


PeoplePeoplePeople
All bloody night was a lament. To what? The encircled shisha; the noiseless dance-filled hall; The endless love of short-lived pleasures.
(I watched them assemble and then slowly slide your lattice apart, I had not used you.)
We wrapped around in reverence to the pipe, Its ashy tenderness, its smoky heart. We so lived in our few seconds of inhalation. Then switching back to the bottle which
Demanded consumption, this stated from its wet wet tongue.
Do not sleep. Wait for the illumination, The pink purity of twilight, The only puri


The Ballad of Cherry KeartonThe Ballad of Cherry KeartonThe Ballad of Cherry Kearton
How we sat there, how We sat there and watched him. Asking ourselves, asking each other If he was OK. Wondering what to do and deciding: watch. Knowing exactly what to do but knowing Someone else would too.
He stumbled while simply standing, Not realising the chalk or the paper That he would stare at and then Repeat three words. And the
Hundred of us sat and assumed Those three words were written out One hundred times themselves. Both as passive, both watching. The words out of the black board, Us o


A Polaroid from MarjinglaThey were selling rodents by the river, alive mostly, though some dead but still warm and some stuck to chip-board with eyes too big and not glassy enough.A Polaroid from Marjingla
They obscured our view of the sun set but we agreed as always that this was so much more
and sat and watched the witches reading from their concoction lists.
They looked over at us occasionally intrigued by my head -cocked neck and your lips cockled against my bangs in nightly ritual.


-I Didn't Deck Him-I was ready to deck him, your dad. I have this friend right, she does karate, and we had this conversation some time ago (three weeks?) Anyway, so she showed me how to make a proper fist. You have to stick your thumb in front of your curled fingers else youll break it, and then you have to tense it like this, see? So I had that packed in my pocket all tensed up ready for your dad and I turned up at your house and rang the bell. Your dad answers, and its like, who the heck is he? All sharp and smart in white and black, greying at the temples, hair gelled a bit, cufflinks (you know what I mean, you lived with him). Anyway, so I let-I Didn't Deck Him-
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08 FEB 2005
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just got to keep you in mind as something larger than life
well done for being featured on ONS
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just got to keep you in mind as something larger than life
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just got to keep you in mind as something larger than life
happy holidays!
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