Fragments 18/4/23

Apr 18, 2023 - 1 minute read

the train stops at the town of my birth so the driver can check if something went under it

love is not an economy – know where love comes from – there is no balance

line by line i learn how not to be a writer

the massive policeman at the door has kind eyes when i open it

the local toffs ring 999 about anything

two young lads on the train seats opposite one keeps complaining about the sun in his eyes but doesn’t change seat

the lad with special needs keeps playing a five second clip of a bell and a ring announcer half announcing rey mysterio and then the bell again

Mad morning rush mind’s quiet

Open so open my brain falls out finally I can look at my brain

I don’t watch wrestling but I still read the dirt sheets every day

Most habits are undead

Sunday morning crammed bus ferrying souls to their allotted gods

Sunday is just another form of labour

Latinos in orange vests returning from work proper grafters

Unbidden happiness soul’s weather

This empty seat on this random bus is mine here are my elbows

After a close shave with an escooter I watch a hoverfly for twenty seconds