I am a well-worn traveller. Not that this has anything to do with anything – but that’s how I happened to be at this particular scene. I was walking out the door when l heard the crash so l switched off the radio. The signal went dead about this time. Don’t remember saying anything but I am on record.
It’s like I’m living in a dirty world, can’t attach myself to anything for fear of contamination. The whole situation makes me into a voyeur of my own predicament. I could never say I saw myself twisted in the wreckage of engagement or being in on the joke when there’s nothing left to laugh at but ourselves.
I always replicate the inevitable entropy of what has been. It’s a habit – extremely addictive, you always want more of the same with a new face and a smiling fist to cram it all in.
It’s lacklustre, this pleasure, I wanted to suffer for it. Should ask for my money before the sun sets and the horizon disappears up it’s own black hole.
Compromise has never been one of my strong points. I’ve always been in favour of a space between dusk and dawn that establishes it’s own kind of vision.
Quizzical pondering – waste of time.
Fuck. Dropped it.
Nothing. Some words and stuff.