I speak of this town as if it had no lessons to teach me, of what i was and what i should be. Was it there i began to awaken from my innocent distractions and empty drunk pursuits. The drink on my lips, dribbling and poisoning this conciousness. Revealing my unthankful body and releasing me of charge aas unseen i drift away into an unhappy state. Anger and fear burn deep inside me and bitter flickers out across my once softened mouth. Loved ones bare this seething unrest and excuse it for an alcoholic twist to my otherwise untarnished soul. What little they know of what awaits inside, we blame the liquor for a last grasp of that Capricorn. But truly we understand the awakening disease that plagues are quiet thoughts, it wishes to have justice, to be granted respect for the innocent inside that was deprived of its rightfully childish imperfections.
From my window i cannot see terrace houses of multicoloured confidence and the flinted South Beach stones. Now there are vast spaces of green, dying apple trees, mounds of rubbish yet to be burned and numerous motored vehicles, x-army, racing, trucks, trailers and containers. My static walls allowing the howls of unheeded dogs to pass through them, no sound goes unheard.
Inside this metal box, old, patched and quietly rotting under foot i sit wondering about what lies beyond, warning sensations rise calling for us to leave this sluice that draw us ever nearer to things better avoided.
Is life so real and bitter?
