random writing #4

I wanna cave in the skull of every poet I've ever met.
drag my face across artex ceilings and woodchip walls;
the same walls that bleed in noise whilst I try to sleep.
Muffled TV, muffled dog.
My screams are muffled too.
Imagine hearing them from outside my skull,
like when you listen to your voice on tape.

The walls are thin like wasps nests; fiberous, delecate - feel like I could
crush them in my hand.

I sit cross-legged within these four walls, naked except for cheap bold carpet
broken table
chair
futon
teevee
vcr
books
comics
videos
cut up newspaper
debris of cultural asimulation.

Besides me is half a bottle of wine, in 20 minutes from now it will be gone
and I will lay unconcious on the floor.

When I awake it is morning and I feel numb
my teeth hurt, my tongue tastes of stale alcohol,
my brain is attempting emergency evacuation of my skull.

I take a shower and almost feel human
I dress, brush my teeth, make toast.
I leave the house without locking the door.

(c) Adam Cheshrie 2002