The response
was never, forthcoming.
Playing, a game.
There was, always going
to be one loser.
Death was coming.
The mud was enveloping him. He was sliding helplessly through the mud. It felt so good against his skin. Sliding towards the centre of the earth. He felt something grip the back of his neck. He was getting pulled back up. She was beautiful, her skin glowing in the light. She was completely naked. She wrapped herself around him, knowing it would be the end. She wanted the truth though. She could feel him enter her. The world was glowing, she could hear him groaning. The world exploded. She felt her body contract, she became a beetle. He put her in the tub. The drums were
getting louder.
Fidelity was nothing
to you.
The great deceiver.
Death was all, you brought.
Lies - were your tools.
Let us become one.
The world will explode.
Death and glory await.
The mud was becoming harder. The air smelled of sulphur and slavery. The story was unravelling. His feet were growing heavy, the pressure of the word bearing down. The trees growing in clumps, with strange flies the size of birds flying through them. Killing all they touched, dogs barking in the distance. His feet wearing him down, falling to his knees he begs for forgiveness. The word will destroy them. The word is the truth, a flaming hot weapon. The most deadly of all weapons, it knows no compassion. Society will be devastated, the devastators will rejoice.
We will dream of future generations.
They will look back and despise.
Killing the world.
Leave nothing.
Rent
always owing
never fully paid.
Living in the now
the future - empty and dead.
The source of humanity,
hidden and buried.
Never to be found.
Death will come.
He pulled himself up from his knees, he had to carry on. The word needs to be unleashed. His head falling apart, strange growths spurting out. Radiant in the darkness, glowing and moving slowly in the breeze. The word trying to escape. The pain driving him mad. Shooting pains, making his eyes go black with pain.
The door opened.

Whispered nothings.
Violent endings.
The foetus drifted up. Floating along the sea of sand. The winds blowing it towards the end of time. The sun burning up. Society crumbling. The word wrapped up deep within. The scorching air burning its skin as it started to grow.
The end is coming.
Live for now.
Forget the future
there is none.
Society is dieing.
Life is failing.
Always searching.
The sky lighting up as the foetus grows. The sky constantly evolving, flashes of colour. Mountains exploding, volcanoes erupting, the sky falling. The word walks into a bar. The air musty and moist. Smoke hanging in the air. The old oak booths showing their age, the floor sticky with years of use. He walks over and picks her up. Takes her out into the dark alley. Presses her against the wall. Lifting her up gently, he pulls her pants to one side. Her eyes flash blue and green as he ejaculates in her. Her skin quivering with the force of her orgasm. She sees the word and realises the truth but too late.
Death is the beginning.
Lying and deceiving
was all you did.
Killing my soul.
Leaving me hollow.
Now your gone.
He turned around and walked away. Towards the marshland to the east. Walking past beggars and muggers, turning to watch as he past. He was the truth he was the word. A vibrating ball of energy. Then he was dragged into a doorway, a tub was placed in his hand. He opened it. There was a clenched hand inside, he opened the hand, there was a beetle there. Smiling he walked on. He could hear the distant banging on drums, the sky was phosphorescent.
Your silence was deafening
you can't defend your actions.
Lying and deceiving
is all you know.
The end was coming
you knew but never said.
Playing with my heart
you left me for dead.
Struggling to breathe.
Massacred for love.
He could smell the marsh. Balls of gas exploding around him. The ground sinking below him. He carried on. The drumming was closer, he could feel it beating his chest. The pressure was making him delirious. He saw shapes dance in front of him, mixing and entwining with each other. The shapes making love to each other, all in harmony showing how the world could be. His face hit the ground and sunk into a glorious blanket of mud.

The Colours Will Erase Us

A new noise/experimental/minimalist project I'm working on.

Myspace

Last FM

Childish

Bears sitting in trees
living in threes.
Eating all the pears

Funeral

As the hearse goes by
the wind stings my eye.
Should I cry?

...andtheywilldeceiveus

My new book available now.

Cancer

How hard could it be? Every morning wake up at 6am, have breakfast and a shower. Then sit in a car for an hour. Followed by 9 hours of hell. Arrive home, watch TV. Go to bed. Repeat for 50 years, unless you are lucky and get cancer before then.