touchy little relink to the dark endeavours of late night early morning soul searching ink spots crawling over canvas taking shapes shadow play mind tricks a film in the making on the back of the retinas i need large rooms filled with paper and squirt guns water and ink plenty of time a lazing about sleeping through the process just to wake once more intoxicated and set to the task once more brief sleeping interludes of vision i don't sleep i dream seldom working without the fleeting moment to know once more those wasted moments to feel the inconsequential existence crushing down on go on get to it engrave your name into the stone see how long one can last the digital memory is nothing like the oral one a good power shortage and everything is forgotten who are we remembering oh yeh the miracle workers the ones with the stories so big so as to be unbelievable they are the stories we keep telling ourselves because we want to believe them the others are just convincing easily acceptable into the daily walkabout lives of bread making and ice cream eating i left them all by the wayside did i want to fuck them maybe in the end when the opportunity was no longer there but at the time i was getting something else altogether the fringe of sexuality through conversation an excitement in play with words that could have bee leading anywhere simple propagation is not exciting enough for the body these days having given up on the mission putting aside lineage of storytelling passing through a blood generation no the world belongs to someone else now they will not be able to write or read so i will have to paint pictures and set a landscape to a tune that can be hummed beaten and whistled so little has changed between us but it is always the other that reinforces image having never been close but growing up and seeing the change of direction there will be something remaining an identifying mark no less that is the recognition they still see a little of themselves within the creation i have not wiped out completely my forefathers will to live beyond themselves in future generations in progeny here comes the end of that here comes the generations that will turn against their own dna they will turn against their own fleshy analogue existence in favour of something with definition a value or without value even without value is valuable signifying a lack simply with or without categories running through the ages and processed simultaneously without measurement or access to time little more than something operating in the background a sky upon which to remark the weather clouds or clear stars or sun