i’m done painting for the night but I hope the night consumes you
a pen is a more familiar brush to me
_
The typewriter is silent and I grit my teeth.
ghosting
my hero lights a cigarette and thinks of me.
twirls it between his thin fingers and thinks of me.
exhales and wonders what i’m doing.
my anti-hero flicks the ash and texts me again and i don’t respond i am busy with another hero i just met.
in hiding
if you catch me i’m busy with things to read
and people to ignore
the cat needs loving
the computer needs my attention
Performance Without Police
Our public space is military but how did we live before this? How do you learn to behave during the next attack? Where will you stand amongst bombs, angels and missionaries waving flags and microphones? Or are you on the outside, listening for a rational visionary with a utopia you crave?
In the light of unGodding, we occupy our art.
Sanctuary is outside this internment.
What is a peaceful moment in the city?
what is there to do
Just writing each other’s names
Just writing and not speaking
Just writing and not being grateful for anything
social follies
why can we not speak in simple language
simple language
and how could we collectively known
how to speak
social obligation
how does anyone have a functioning relationship when they are addicted to anything?
as i am addicted to the machine of my computer
how do i not when i want to be a functional programmer..
how does anyone that is an artist function?
is the canvas better than the screen?
commit
you have to write all day to
er …..to
hum……to get into it. you have to commit.
and will that be enough, yes?
enough to make me happy
you have to do it all day to get into it.
I’ve been coding all day.
i cannot program myself
to act different
when all i want
are blankets
and hot tea