The wind tears it away. Fingers
through hair
Every which way [but north]
Strands in the mouth,
sticky lips, slick with lipstick
Venus fly traps.



I find
A lack of words
Says more
Than anything else


Ablute yourself
Scrape away grey skin
Brush hot flushes of steaming blood up
into your epidermis

That thin coating.

Soak scents to cover the stench
the meaty human smell that rises unless quashed
With lather and silver whips of water
Scourging temptation
Down the plughole


Blame the gamma rays
Blame the newly discovered implant
Cast stones at
    pictures of glasshouses
Scream into the faces of hastily removed babies
Gesticulate in darkness
In parks
In the wrong clothes, ten layers in summer heat
One thin t-shirt come Christmas
Break your voice on a paper cup
And the small coins held within it
Blame wifi, for the way they
Don’t see


For fear of being less than entirely wholesome I have redacted certain words and phrases from the record. Upon playback the viewer will continue to enjoy those unsurpassable visual pleasures that can only be attained from the memory of one such as I, marred but momentarily by a drop in primary vocal source during the aforementioned cusswords or uncouth utterances.
All other inputs remain unedited.