Thursday, 6 October 2016
The problem is life. Every time you think you are breathing you are fucking the dead. The problem is the midlands. Every time you read a book. Every time you correct someone you are a violent Tory. Every time you think you are correct. Every time you think you're embracing the outer. Every time you feel bad about yourself. Every time you carve up your body image. Fuck, this is futile and imitation. Every time you say "I'm quite OCD'. Every time you self diagnose as neurotypical, yeah, it's you motherfucker. Get your head in my throat in my hands. Every time you imitate me I will do the same to you. Every time "I don't have a voice". The problem with the establishment of "spoken word" as an art form is that even the people who attend it think it's shit. The problem with Kate Tempest is the same as the Midlands and drama school. The problem with me is I'm lost and bitter and a fucking traitor to myself. The problem with every problem is the score of its ultimatum written badly on the sky or on the stars if you look to the stars for guidance or beauty you cannot be trusted. The problem with you is you're afraid of Theresa May the same as I was and that problem is the desire for a neurotypical grandfather who won't let go of your leg whilst he hangs you over the balcony like *********who was a sex offender like the nebula like the sea like the sand under the sea which is, now I think about it, the wettest thing in the world. Stop fucking following me. When you try to write down the thoughts that come into your head you usually try to stop them then try to start them again. William Burroughs has nothing to offer you. You already know. There is nothing here. I have nothing to offer you. Poetry is fucking stupid. You are fucking stupid. That punk in the Blue Man, he is on the spectrum. That neurotypical support worker, she is on the spectrum. The moon is on the fucking spectrum. "We're all a bit autistic", no, You're. Then you can get up and then be sick then you can say some of these words to make yourself feel more comfortable. ************ is a fucking creep. All his poems are enemies. I haven't read them. It is rare that this much disclosure. Oh but it's a special occasion. There is a every time there is a national poetry day you write a poem. A very long time ago Hans Falada was trending in Waterstones. I am running out. I am not a clear voice. Don't ingest me like you would botox. Get over your desires. If you're not reading by next week someone you hadn't heard of last week you are killing yourself. If you can read you are already in hell. The neurotypical discipline is a white fantasy in lieu of visible slaves. Teach yourself not to listen.