The machines outside whirred and buzzed like flies, and I noticed how with every spoonful of soup some dripped back into the bowl.
The air was fetid with melancholia as the wind drew dancing shadows with the branches of trees.
The machines outside carried on with their hums.
‘Life is just a liminal space between death.’ A voice in my head said. And I nodded.
It was a mundane Thursday, and the dust was making me sick, along with the melancholy which burdened the air with its treacle.
‘The world eats us all in the end.’ The friend in my head said.
The nausea rose from my guts, and my head started to ache.
And I ate the treacled air till I was empty inside.
The floor under my feet was no longer solid. I needed the talons of a predator to grasp the moment, but vertigo had me in its clutches.
It should have been a Sunday; it felt like a Sunday
This melancholic disease is the defining symptom of a Sunday.
But alas, it was Thursday.
and melancholy on a Thursday goes deeper
I sat and ate that treacled air until I was empty
Author: Matt
Clown Show
I’m one carnival ride
from breaching through the circus
rage broiling beneath the surface
It’s all been said before
semantic satiation
got me dead
and I’m done with these thoughts inside my head
taking me away from all I’ve ever believed and said
I want to burn the world to the fucking ground
I’m done being the jester to you fucking clowns
the zeitgeist is under my skin
amorphous clowns snaking their way in
intercepting algorithmic spin
hate is the new order
empathy the sin
all these serpents folded within
the scales never fall far from their eyes
before they’re drinking the venom in
praising false idols
standing at their podiums
spewing prejudice
animus animating contempt
that got their teeth grinding in their heads
and all our skulls smiling behind the dread
all while they paint the world in red
whose blood will run then? It’s not them
they’re war lust scroungers, not men.
To The Drum Of Slain Beasts
the blush of autumn since passed
the world lay naked
since life found its place in death
seeded with that which will spring
redressing all the ruin
when the earth puts on her blooms
and swathes us all in her scent
while we make smoke of the summer
as if burning incense
to the Gods of hell
and what comes rushing
but the blood of slain beasts
as our hearts beat to the drum
of this machine
we’re surely cradled in
Sunday Wordle: The constellations were scribbled in the sky
The constellations were scribbled in the sky
a scribe for reckoning with the here and now
history ablaze
blows our future to old beginnings
renewed for our narrow minds
always running us in circles to what we shall become
ashes to ashes
and to dust, we shall return
Life is a terrible thing
It is a terrible thing
this thing we call life
we forget we’re part of a whole
when the music plays
and we’re in the moment
all the while time kills another
and we’re all just dancing in times waiting room
‘Enjoy it while you can’
but I was never like you
strong and able to weather the storms
I could never believe life is worth it
with all it’s faults
I’m an all or nothing kind of guy
I never could worship heroes
showing us growth comes from pain
I’m stunted
because I don’t bend to the storm
I stay rigid
and frankly
I’m angry I was ever fucking born
Only read this if you’re angry: Another semantic satiation experiment
Only read this if you’re angry
If you’re not, this may tickle your brain into
Semantic satiation
Semantic satiation
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.
The only world that still fills
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.
The only word that still thrills
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate
hate. hate. hate. hate
hate till it means nothing
hate till it means nothing
hate till it means nothing
it always means something
the word can’t be satiated
hate can’t be satiated
Slaughter house of rage
There is a haunted house where something innocuous, like a painting or a shoe, is moved every day. And there is the sound of a dripping tap. Drip. Drip. But every time you go to look, the drip is gone, but as soon as you turn your back, Drip Drip it goes.
When the night comes to pass and you’re lying in your bed, the washing machine is spinning and spinning like all the thoughts in your head. And it spins and spins, and the swill in your head rinses the same old lines all over again.
And your skull is beside itself with its smug grin, laughing in your sleep; that’s why you grind your teeth.
And when you go outside, you see that your skeleton is wearing someone else’s fucking skin! And the man laughs, he laughs like your skull in your sleep, and you want to grab hold of that fucker and bleed your wrath all over him!
Semantic satiation
Freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedooooooommm freeeddddooooooommmmm
freeeeeeeedddddoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm
non-conformity
non-conformity
conformity
conformity
conformity conformity conformity conformity conformity conformity conformity conformity conformity
conformity
Con – Formity
Con con – formity conformity
The freedom for non-conformity
the freedom for non-conformity
the freedom for non-Conformity
the new conformity
It’s all been done?
The bible
it’s up to you how it’s sold?
The bible? Bible
Bible? Bible? Bible? Bible?
it’s up to you how it’s sold.
We’re always living
always
We’re always living
in 1984
George Orwellian?
George Orwellian?
We’re always living in
1984
George Orwellian?
Take a moment
any moment
and pull it out of a hat
and it’s
George Orwellian
if….
George Orwellian?
If you don’t like that?
The new criticism
new
old
new criticism
is George Orwellian?
It’s always 1984
We always live in
We always
We always live
in 1984?
1984? 1984?
It’s up to you how it’s sold
1984? 1984?
George Orwellian?
It’s up to you how it’s sold.
Fuck it.
Fuck it.
I’ve never meant it more than this
I want to crawl out of my own skin
traverse the earth and watch it burn
a skeletal aftermath
of my all-consuming wrath
the monsters I created in my head
are all the people I have and will ever be
caught in this emptiness
this machine that cradled us
I could never be good enough
to break free from this space
I’m becoming the monsters
the smug face ripped off my nemesis
is mine to take
basking in his out of this world place
where I own the world
and you’re all just pawns in my game
Fuck it.
Holding up this glass, half-empty
a toast to the monster I became.
Put your heart and soul into it: A Drew and Drake story
Drew consoled himself with a packet of wotsits and a cartoon on the TV as the ambulance drove away.
‘Psst.’
Drew looked around but could see no one. He shrugged and continued munching on his wotsits.
‘Pssst!’
Drew drew himself forward on the couch, ‘Hello?’
‘Psst, here!’
Drew looked around the room, eyes darting back and forth uncertainly, ‘Hello?’
‘Here!’ The voice called again.
Drew picked up the remote with cheesy fingers, leaving a grease stain on the mute button. ‘Hello?’ he whispered uncertainly.
The cartoon moved onto adverts; a girl stood open-mouthed in fake awe of a pink plastic toy.
‘Drew! I need you to get my body back!’ The voice had panic in it.
‘Drake?’ Drew looked dumbfounded and sprung off the sofa, ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘I’m in the Dambuster!’ Came Drakes’s voice.
Drew’s face remained blank.
‘The damn Dambuster!’ Drake called out, frustrated.
‘Is that a hoover?’ Drew lurched toward the broken hoover in the corner of the room.
‘No! No!’ Drake’s voice started, and the panic heightened in his voice, ‘Air fix model plane! 1:72 Lancaster Dambuster!’
Drew found the Lancaster Dambuster model on the table next to the sofa. He picked it up delicately and put it to his ear like a phone, ‘Drake?’
‘I’m here! You got me!’ Drake replied with relief, his voice clipped and loud inside Drake’s ear.
‘Bloody hell! Turn the volume down!’
‘Or take me away from your ear!’ Drake would have been shaking his head if he could, ‘Listen, Drew! You need to get to my body!’
‘How did you even get in there? The paramedics took you away!’ Drew held the Dambuster in his right hand and scratched his balls in his shorts.
‘I put my heart and soul into this model!’
‘And now look at ya! You’re a damn dambuster!’
Drake sighed.
Drew raced out the door, the Dambuster in the crook of his arm.
‘Careful!’ Drake drolled, ‘I’m made of plastic!’
‘Aren’t we all these days.’ Drew muttered.
There was silence except for Drew’s heavy, lumbering footsteps until Drake finally broke it. ‘Drew?’
‘Yea?’
‘When did you become so profound?’
‘You’ve not been found yet.’ Drew replied.
The dambuster tutted beneath the crook of Drew’s arm.
‘I’ll be profound when I’ve got you back.’
‘I’m here.’
‘I mean when you’re made of flesh.’ Drew replied.
‘Alright, Drew?’ Billy stepped off the curve of the pavement to step around him, ‘Talkin’ t’ yaself?’
‘No I was talkin’ t’…’ Drew stopped and felt the Airfix model beneath the crook of his arm, ‘I guess maybe I was.’
‘Where is Drake?’ Billy asked, looking around for him before his eyes beamed on the model and with a huge grin and glint in his eyes he asked, ‘I used t’ make them as a kid! Airfix model, is it?’
Drew nodded.
‘Can I have a look?’
Drew squinted in the sun, ‘I dunno about that.’
‘Protective over it are ya?’ Billy smirked and stepped closer to Drew, Bending a little to view the plane. ‘Ya make that yaself?’
‘No, Drake made it.’
‘Wow. He’s really put himself into that!’
Drew gawped, ‘You know?’
Billy looked up from the plane with a frown, ‘What?’
‘Ya said he put himself into it.’
‘Yea. Just look at it.’ Billy snatched it from Drew’s arm, ‘He’s really got an eye for the details. The way he’s painted it to make it look rusted and old. It’s amazing!’ Billy’s eyes popped as he shook his head in amazement, ‘Who’d ‘ave thunk simple old Drake had such in ‘im!’ He grinned from ear to ear, ‘He did put his heart and soul into it didn’t it!’ He beamed, delicately running a finger along the plane’s flank and around the wing’s edges. ‘Hell, I might just be inspired to start up the hobby again myself!’ Billy made as if to return the plane to Drew, ‘You be careful how ya carry ‘er! Can’t have you breaking it!’
Drew held both his hands out to receive the plane.
‘There ya go, now off ya go. Be delicate with her!’
‘It’s a he.’ Drew was shocked, ‘Ya should know that!’
‘Nah a beauty like that is a she! Always a she, Drew.’
Billy turned and continued on his way, turning to look over his shoulder at Drew and the model once or twice before turning the corner to the next street.
‘Well that was gross.’ Intoned the Dambuster in Drake’s voice.
‘Ya tellin’ me ya got a sex change too?’ Drew asked the dambuster, his face screwed up, ‘Ya coulda told me!’
‘What? I haven’t had a bleeding sex change, mate!’
‘But he knew ya were in there. And he said you were a she!’
‘Do ya believe everything Billy tells ya?’
Drew shrugged.
‘Besides, he doesn’t know I’m in here!’
‘He said as much!’ Drew protested.
‘It’s a figure of speech to folk like him. He doesn’t realise it’s real. He says heart and soul as if they are metaphors. He doesn’t actually know I’m in here.’
‘So you haven’t changed your sex?’
The dambuster sighed, ‘That’s your concern right now? If I’ve had a sex change or not? I’m a damn dambuster! Focus, Drew, focus!’
‘Okay, so we’re here.’ Drew told the Airfix model, looking around furtively as he approached the doors.
‘What’s wrong?’ Drakes disembodied voice asked.
‘This place. It’s spooky!’
‘Spookier than a ghost in an Airfix model giving you instructions?’
Drew shrugged.
‘Time is of the essence!’
‘No. Essence is a perfume.’ Drew replied.
‘It’s also time.’ A flustered Drake replied from the Dambuster, ‘I dunno how long my body can be dead till it can’t take my soul back!’
Drew ran across the road and rattled the doors, ‘I can’t get in!’
‘You’re gonna have to break in!’
‘I can’t break in!’ Drew huffed.
‘Yes you can! You’ve done it before! It’s not your first crime!’
‘But I’ve been on a good streak!’
‘Do you want me to be a damn dambuster for the rest of my fucking life?’
Drew stopped to think about this a moment, the silence engulfing them before a car sped past. Drew tried to look nonchalant, scuffing the pavement with the toe of his shoe, hugging the airfix model close to his body.
‘Fuck sake! It shouldn’t take that long to think about! It’s obvious!’
‘Sorry, it’s just… I mean… You’re still here with me! So…I don’t mind if you’re an airfix plane or whatever else!’
‘Aww,’ Drake snapped, ‘How cute!’ He said sarcastically, ‘Listen, Drew, I need you to pick the lock. You’ve picked a lock before.’
‘No you picked the locks’ Drew protested.
‘Did I?’
‘Yea you picked the locks!’
‘Okay. But you saw me do it!’
Another car drove by, the passenger giving Drew the side eye as he whispered to the airfix model, ‘I wasn’t paying attention to you! I was on the lookout.’
‘Well..’ Drake started…
A car door opened and closed nearby, and then shoes scuffing on the pavement could be heard inching closer, accompanied by a plastic rattle.
A woman broached the corner, a plastic carrier bag in one hand, and a waft of perfume made its way toward them.
‘Time and essence.’ Drew mumbled to himself.
The woman stopped short at the sight of Drew outside the doors, clutching the Dambuster in his grubby hands.
She read his face, a look of anxious desperation.
‘Hello,’ Piercing the moment with her voice, ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ She plopped the carrier bag down on the pavement and twisted her body to root through her handbag, fishing out a selection of keys that rang together as she pulled them out.
‘I need to get in to see Drake.’
‘Drake?’ The woman picked the carrier bag back up and walked towards the doors and unlocked them. ‘Surname?’
‘Whitlock.’
‘And what do you need to see this, erm..’ The keys rattled in her hands, ‘Mr Whitlock’s body for?’
‘Because…’
‘Halt it, Drew. She won’t believe you.’
Drew swallowed audibly, ‘Because I miss him.’
‘Tell her you want to place the dambuster with him.’
Drew held out the plane in her face, ‘I want to put this with him.’
‘Tell her he put his heart and soul into it and he’d have wanted it to be with him.’
‘He would have wanted it to be with him.’ Drew told her.
The woman looked at him suspiciously. ‘No,’ She frowned, ‘That would be a job for the undertakers. You think I can just let any random man in off the streets to come look at some mans body?’ She shook her head again, ‘What about dignity? What about respect? what about…’
As she prattled on, Drake instructed Drew to sneak in through the doors while they had the chance.
‘Hey!’ The woman stormed in through the doors, ‘Young man!’ She shouted after him.
Running into the cold room lined with steel drawers Drew pulled each one out till he found Drake’s lifeless body.
‘Now what do I do?’ Drew asked.
‘I dunno. Place me on my body.’ Drake replied
Drew placed the airfix model of the Dambuster onto Drake’s body.
The lights above buzzed monotonously and a tap dripped somewhere off to the side.
‘Psst, Drew…’
‘Yea?’
‘I…I dunno what to do now. How do I get myself back into my body?’
Drew frowned, ‘Well, how’d you get in the Dambuster?’
‘I told you, I put my heart and soul into it!’
‘Well do the same again but into your body.’
‘But,’ Drew could almost hear the expression Drake would have been pulling on his face if he could, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, ‘It’s not the same thing. I was making it, I put a lot of effort into it.’
‘Put a lot of effort into getting back into your body then.’ Drew shrugged.
The Dambuster started to vibrate with the effort as the woman stormed in.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing in here?’ She scowled, her eyes reaching the airfix model widened, ‘What on earth is going on with that?’
She lurched toward Drew, ‘Is this some kind of degenerate sexual thing!’ She looked from Drew to the Dambuster, ‘What is that toy doing! Why is it vibrating like that!’
‘He’s trying to get back into his body!’
Befuddled the woman stepped back, ‘What? Who?’
‘Drake! He’s trying to get back into his body!’
‘What do you mean he’s trying to get back into his body?’ She asked in a shrill voice.
Drew pointed to the Dambuster, ‘ He’s in there, ‘And it’s not a toy. It’s an Airfix model.’
The woman started, ‘It’s not a toy? It’s a….’
The Dambuster started to vibrate even harder, and one of the propellers began to spin, which caused a chain reaction, and they all began to move.
‘What trickery is this?’ The woman asked appaled, ‘This is inappropriate behaviour inside a morgue.’
‘There is no trickery,’ Drake’s voice croaked.
The woman jumped out of her skin, and her body landed limply on the cold tiled floor.
‘Fuck,’ Drake spat as he got up off the metal gurney, ‘I think we’ve killed her!’ He ran over to her and checked for a pulse, ‘Shit. She’s gone.’
‘What happened to her?’ Drew asked.
‘I think I scared her to death.’
‘She jumped out of her skin.’ Drew muttered to himself.
Standing there naked over her, feeling for a pulse Drake smiled, ‘I think you’re onto something there!’
‘What?’ Drew gawped.
‘She jumped out of her skin. Maybe she’ll jump back in, in a minute.’
‘Can we go home now?’
Drake tutted and shook his head, ‘No hug for your old mate? Not even a ‘welcome back mate.”
‘Not while you’re naked like that, no.’ Drew replied.
