2 May 2012

I see only rolling scenes rumbling rattling screen but know that scent like forever

Like love or satisfaction not gloating proud but pleasant Time bottled barraged grass green thoughts dreams of mud soil and dirt

I feel vampish Rayban wrong belonging not to open air trees and grace only brickwork sullen metal cold dusty bored of life a dead not tragic form

Tragedy flocks with birds not ravenous pasty slake-eyed poverty of space or natural cleanliness a herd a Smirnoff of female journalists an embarrassment of wine bottles Not for me But she’s here not far away close now like Angels' breath in the way that only they can be

J. x

ZoodarkCollective Nouns • Opuss № I