képek, betűk

Every blink is another life.
That is different now; that was different, and will be different.
I don’t know what I could think of.
Warmth in the hollow of my hand.
The flow of blood warms the flesh.
Events uncontrollable by will.
I take it in, process it, let it go.
Those that no longer matter lie beside those who once were.
They lie there as blind spots.
I wait for the next image.
Smile, speech, movement.
I work — money is more powerful than I am.
It is the chief god among the imagined.
I hate it, yet I’m afraid without it.
Do I dare not die in life?
I am a coward; I despise myself.
A sigh to the trees, a smile to the window.
The draught is like a thousand gentle touches.
A few hopes, some lies, and I function.
Filthy streets, suffering people.
Withington is greyer than concrete.
It could interest me, if it did.
I don’t want to descend into insanity.
The screeching of green parrots from the trees.
The contented winners of the climate crisis.
The magpies and pigeons can fuck off.
The clouds try to cover our shame.
Minutes feel like pliable gelatine.
I’m suffocating, as if I were swallowing an ice cube.
Its cold corners feel like fists.
The world is what it is.
Wavefunctions on a razor’s edge.
The present is non-deterministic for humans.
A predictable machine to itself.
Indifferent parent with tomato sauce.