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HARD CELL (live text reading)

 

Journeying through the rubbish and debris scattered aimlessly across concrete planes brings immediate pleasure

A pleasure of a special kind, a hope of something more destructive

A confirmation of the essence of life somehow resisting the hard cell, there is hope for us yet, it says

The big gapping wanting mouth filled with a deeper hole leading to softer cells

The angst ridden junkie rat scuffles along with their blue plastic bag, clinging to normality, the plastic bag is the rotten udder, the rotten udder is the plastic bag

We all scream with gapping holes for release

The rubbish on the floor gives momentary relief, the possibilities are endless it says

A moment of un-regimented activity

A kink in the armour

The pissy weeds clamber upwards  

The polystyrene containers stained with grease slide across the road to greet meet me with open mouths.

The rancid polystyrene represents us all

The piles of crap I encounter, free me from this hard cell.  My crazy limbs jerk, my chaotic mind is amped up to 100

I can’t forget the impression you made, you left a hole in the back of my head

I owe those piles of crap everything

The naked flesh waist down, in between the gaps in the concrete, the split personalities. The body offers itself to the twigs and the weeds, foliage and peat

The half body nests its weary self down, half-human half-weed, half -man, half-biscuit

Headless bodies, seek refuge from the foreboding structures of violence

Neon yellow illuminates brutality, the phallus idly scribbled across the surface, like a really bad after thought because nothing else seems available at this point and lets face it, it all comes down to this and I am really knackered anyway

Thank god for piles of crap

Where would we be without them

What a complete waste of space those highly risen blocks …all shiny and empty….they need to smear  themselves

The spiky weeds entwine my limbs, an aggressive embrace of the unnatural kind, spikes of toxic pleasure reverberate upwards against my will

Only the piles of crap and puddles of alcoholic piss will negate our puny existence.

Only moments of pure juvenile delinquency will deliver us now

The streets are paved with skid marks

Give yourself to me

 

Josephine Wood, 2024

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