All my rips are fat.

I love taking a FAT RIP!

a deep breath…in…

…hold it for awhile.

Hostage.

Extract_everything.zip

…just before they’re about to pay the ransom,

let it go.

I feel my heartbeat…s l o w.

I feel my muscles replenish.

I feel the way my body is put together; the way it works.

The way everything works really.

Everything is quiet; time has stopped—I’ve got Bernard’s watch.

All things: suspended.

I have the world to myself,

I don’t have to share it with anyone.

No demand.

No chaos, calamity, commands.

But in that moment,

when everything is quiet, I can understand.

I can hear what my brain whispers; the message that doesn’t normally make it through.

“You don’t have to share the world with anyone, you get to. 

Matryoshka

I love when when creepy humans get outed as aliens in films,

There’s a little chap piloting a sophisticated human mech.

They always die too; might be our atmosphere.

I like to think they die of embarrassment having been found out.

Discovered to death,

Found…dead,

I wonder if there is a little pilot in my head,

Twisting knobs, or steering. 

Pilot-y things.

Maybe, someone pilots him.

We crack open his fragile, eggshell skull.

Only to find…a tinier guy. 

Roughly tic-tac sized,

and in him?

Has a speck of a pilot been located?

Or merely speculated?

Surely a failing of human eyes.

It would beg loads of questions technology-wise.

How small the rabbit hole goes can be debated,

at least I know the biggest size,

Paradox of choice.

Better to be alive. 

I made the choice, to stay. 

Persevere. 

I am still here, I must try. 

It was always going to be hard not choosing the easy option. 

But there is strength,

persisting. 

But there is strength not choosing the easy option.

It was always going to be hard.

I am still here. 

I must try, persevere. 

I made the choice to stay alive. 

To be better. 

Hark, the doldrums call.

my beating core is still,

drums have fallen silent. 

Diagnosis: Leccy brain damage. 

Prognosis: Chronic. 

plugged outlet, ironic. 

Pepper?…

I give one of Abbie’s bras a fuss,

Slow blink at a shadow. 

Nuzzle a bin bag,

Stroke a sock. 

Love can take many forms, sometimes easily mistakable ones. 

…Hardly know her,

Let’s keep the patches shaven in,

Those are the bits I love the most. 

High or low?

Sentient ape. 

I don’t really fit anywhere,

it’s not that I’m too big; I’m an awkward shape. 

Other people tessalate. 

I care about my own things, and not bullshit. 

Like how great it is liking sports or being mauve. 

I get pushed out of the room. 

Alex or alcove?

Alligator Agitator, I have to assume. 

In the margin, rolling a joint. 

I either get high, or liquify,

and settle at the lowest point. 

Blind date

Hello, 

Your nipple is showing. 

She looked down, it wasn’t. 

She had her nipples harvested years ago. 

What made her forget?

Sorry, I’m nervous. 

War smoothed some of my wrinkles out. 

But brains are like zen gardens; you smooth them out and put the wrinkles back: neater than before. 

I just find my self redrawn by a more practiced hand everyday. 

Nothing is set in stone. 

We carve our own path. 

We shape our future the way we tend to our garden, patience, care, fluidity.

Craftsmen of the crafted,

Artist as well as the ar—“are you John?”

“Huh?”

“I’m Alice.”

No, my name is “Graham”.

“Sorry, I’m supposed to be meeting someone called John.”

I could be John.

“Ghrame!”

“Goodbye Graham.”- Alice said fair too kindly. 

Graham had gotten ever closer to human contact. 

He would try again tomorrow; and get closer still.

Patience, 

care,

Fluidity. 

The incredible sulk.

Hulk smashed another annoying appliance,

Violence, then silence. 

It wasn’t the girth of the noise, but the length. 

Done it again. 

Clumsy brute, I don’t know my own strength.

One last blow, Fan in pieces. 

In truth, I don’t know my own weakness. 

Burp Reynolds.

I drank some water just now in bed,

I was landscape. 

As the water rushed into my stomach it displaced a big burp. 

It bubbled through the water I slurped.

I felt like a bong. 

man like Big Ben. 

I giggled at the karma implications,

After all my many inhalations. 

One came back to bite me. 

But after so many rips,

One or two nips are only going to change my k/d ratio slightly. 

It’s only right, we give thank for this bizarre experience. 

Thank you, middle of the night. 

These soft hours that host jolly japes. 

That let my brain stretch, explore. 

This is what life is about. 

Those slender moments where I actually exist are bliss. 

That’s what I’m still in this for. 

Trek trendy voice.

Ask me to decide which day of our half-decade was the most important. 

I’ll say today. 

Ask me what I’ll say tomorrow. 

I’ll say the same.