Eyes open. I’m still here. In every way.
Good thing. Bad thing. Something? Perhaps something.
Thirty hours. Thirty-two? Still awake.
The table. Unstable. Instable? Unstable.
Date. 10th. No. 12th. I woke up on the 10th.
The table. That one. Not mine. Mine’s
Precariously perched on the precipice of the
The drawings. Sketches? They’re good.
I like them. They’re really good. I love them.
I quite like them. I think. I think?
Ha, semantic manipulation! I think.
Woke up. A while ago. A while ago now.
Mused on the possible mathematical-
Scientific-philosophical-societal applications for
My formulaic expression of the
Equilibrium of the universe. Tea cup is dirty.
“That is fucking disgusting.” With a smile.
Left flat. Bus. Town. People.
Sad people. Talking. Talk. Talk.
Endless fucking talking.
“Someone was sitting there.”
“Yeah mate – me.”
Bravado. Imagined. Reality. “Soz.”
Now. Table. Arm. Pen. Paper.
Dr Pepper. Coke. Scarf. Pen. Trademark.
Pen. Paper. Table. Boot. Pen. Chair.
Pen. Sofa. Pen. Pen.
Pen. Pen. [Kiss].
Pen. Pen. Pen. Pen. Pen.
Two-Five-One. Follower. Follow ‘er.
Pen. Red. Eyes. Red. Pen.