They do not know she is not coming.
I count: one, two, three, four, five of them.
I know she stutters.
In the hotel room spiders are crawling the corners.
I have seen woodlice in the cooked meats.
Newspapers are mouldering under damp carpets.
The flesh is dangerous.
A thousand news channels haunt the television.
I make a collage of VHS tape.
They do not know she is not coming tonight.
I am a fleshbulb.
I stuttered my way through a bottle of Pinot Noir.
I am a dozen disguises in guestbooks and on CCTV.
This is an exclusive written under damp carpets.
I love this - in all its pathos. 'dozen disguises in guestbooks' sounds good and slurs nicely after the Pinot. Great pic - if you find out the source, let me know.
ReplyDeleteMy only niggle is the repetition of 'stutter'. I'd change the first one if it was me.
<3