Thursday, 14 November 2013

From a Call(ish)

The first couple of lines of this were written in collaboration with Robert Kiely. Daniel Spicer was present in the document for a while.

Here’s a rusk, baby. I like you!! It is reciprocated. Off I go. x       a
thanks and tara. xx


sing with me Isis sing with me Spektor sing with me Winston sing with me Monad sting with me
Russell hunt with my chopper sing with me Katie Hopkins us with me Twerk twerk star of
us singstar star on us Isis honourary Pecting with me sing green the rushes ugh sing ugh
ugh with me ugh ugh o computer boys sing with me foam party pundit raptured to a manifest
body spirit and soul bullshit soul shit in lake in poem language shit and sting with me sister
of Neptune’s flagrant wanking MS doc singer songwriter balloon confection massed
populist flarf gabbers sing with me cthylla daughter of cthulu car pooling motherfuckers
sing of the Lindsay stars sing with me Spicer pour over me waters of daughters of Cthylla
songs sing without raptures work makes me volatile to astrictive limit love with me
stupid town of my <3 <3 sing with me stamner crock of catheter soul with signing us suck
of balloon bile I saw gently prynne with me Isis skim in the lizard’s fire skip to the duct
where a patient ward-waltzes trapped in the catheter stage of teenage love examination and
as she pulls up to the window stares down to amassed cars, curls up by amassed windows
sings
to the hospital’s confection, edges of increased neon hospital lamps, lactic as you like
stays steady in the front stage of mourning the hospital sleeps in drips of lactic light as
you stay steadied by amassed cars and call songs sing to me spirits / Isis-grunt
scronk over to the bed. Sit down my love. Can you hear me my love. I want you
to know that everything’s going to be a-okay (oh fuck) my love. Hello? Can you
(oh useless) do you love me my love. bleep in quick steadies flat again bleep again (oh oh!)
hello? my love? do you love me my love before it’s (oh too late - dead - flat… hang about
… bleep) still there then. still hanging in there like a proper little trooper my love
child. rats rats rats eh? okay then wait is that a flat line again okay i’ll just be hanging
up my coat, rolling up the paper and heading out of the room, phew. little hand
soap. antiseptic. alcohols. oh wait. bleep. fuck sake. can you hear me my love? is that
a book you’ve been reading? shall i read it to you? okay: ‘here here dead dead church
falls by rote is the direction of your eye to me  me sing *bleep*’ jesus how long you
hanging about this neck around neck so long sucker no wait there’s that … wait she’s
not coming back is she. doctor  want an honest well not honest but you know what i
sing Isis sing dark’s slash away at such remarks sparks fall from lactic lights wait who are
you in this bed anyways not my love or thing or you awake can you hear me my love
lights and stands in lactic dross by the corporeal damage scatters. graph graph. god. need
to go to buy sudocrem soon when will she snap out god just cleanse in minimal altruism
need it a formal labour crossing doctor doctor i feel like a victim of the current and usual
conditions of living. of fuck off will you i’m trying to *bleep* out of my control so there
shove it where it hurts her every time the bell strikes for the end of visiting time don’t
you listen this is inside north tower royal sussex hospital at 2.23 pm and you shouldn’t
even be here who is my daughter talking to when i’m not about is it the polycyst i knew
we should have kept an eye on that stuff my love my love move your mouth for me little
stars wink under the peripheral don’t you know oh go to heck it something more substantial
for my daughter day is a dream in the pitch of the room she streaks fuck. they. streaks.
them. hen. they are my child no not posessing and that see this is me i want to try to understand
all that stuff they’ve been telling her down at the college du polycyst used to be a caaaaaraar
y’know it al =’s in the eyes of gawd when you going not a penny to yer name a price bastad
little brackets everywhere little cock little panties all made used to be a car cararar used
TW all make senses senses purring like a lactic lamp in lifeless love and feigning reasonable
vigour this is the mark of the time and the rain smatts onto slats in my plaits you dumb twats
ad your prats in spats over scraps and fap faps having craps to collapse in an email elapsed
time. hmm. not a pleasant thought but a cusp of one morning i woke up this child of mine
in a crash helmet wrapped neck in a strip of ribbon making barking noises watching an episode
of Katie Hopkins in a massive can can firework ISIS loop and what was the 23 big in black
letters one for each breast and bollock that kinda thing throws me off cos I’m a man of my time
and my time is NEVER NEVER now is the time of the children of Bodom of of Isisisisis cornered
sing with me now.

No comments:

Post a Comment