Last Night

I am grinning, teeth terrifying the young children who fill the building. My dentist lectures me. Educates me about everything. The walls are covered in certificates. I read his credentials. He is very well qualified. The chair reclines, rises, rotates. A carousel. There is a knock on the door. Carollers. Carroll, the receptionist, takes down their information. Books them each an appointment. Points to the door. They stampede through the hallways. The building vibrates. My phone vibrates. 27 missed calls. Windows shatter. Glass rains down upon passing pedestrians. Cars crash and I applaud loudly. Music plays in surround sound, drowning out the chaos. Then suddenly our time is up. The music stops and giant bells clang. I giggle my way through the carnage. Camera crews’ tug at cables tangled in rubble which fray and snap. I stop at a massage parlour for a rub down. I partake in hallucinogenic drugs. I don’t pay. The sky clouds over and over. Everyone takes shelter under the bridge. Waterfalls cage us in. Bodies press together and diseases spread. Snot crust clogs everyone’s throats. Children tap-dance toward us, avoiding cracks on the concrete. It begins to begin to rain. We look upward, opening our mouths wide, welcoming the wet spray on our faces. We dance up on each other, rubbing and grinding. We piss into the gutters until the sewers flood gold. I climb up a fire escape. I keep climbing through a gap in the clouds. There is a basketball court on the roof of the building. The building is a courthouse. I scrimmage with the judges. They object to all of my foul calls. “Man up.” They play a zone defence.

Short Play 16

1: Just keep turning left.

2: Is this a road? I can't tell if this is a road. I can't tell which way is left. I can't see a thing. Can anyone see a thing?

1: I can see a thing

It was the kind of thing you didn’t notice until you noticed it but once you noticed it you couldn’t not notice it

By 2008 we’d all had enough
Oh, I see, reverse psychology
I like you

This is a scrapbook
The last 4th of July
You’re a little turned on right now aren’t you

Yes you are
Come on come on come on come on
So that brings us to today

don't bring negative energy into my positive aura

i have fallen into a deep hole

i am extremely mature and fucked

the fire alarm went off in the library today

i’m feeling good right now

i feel like an empty can crushed in a girls clenched fist

Halt!

Who goes there?
Are you friend?
Or are you faux?
Are ewe rich?
Oar are you pour?

Eye war a Batman suit
And ass kid pee pill
These quest shins.
My grammar watched me
From a safe diss stance,
Hole ding hour packed lunch.

Wee eight sand witches
And drank Jews.
Then we walked threw
Sum bushes and
I found a cool rock

having decided
to get out more he got out
"How To Get Out More"

Poem From 2008

Crash Course
(caveat emptor)

anything core2duo is perfectly fine

Vista Home Premium
dont bother with
                           ultimate

don't pay extra money for that antivirus shit.
take what comes free.
ill sort that shit out for you.

ram: 2 gigs is plenty
       3 gigs is better
       4 gigs is a waste

you know the system
                                  bigger the better

(don't get too caught up though
250gb or 320 is fine
if you ever need to upgrade
external HDDs are dirtcheap)

i say 15.4" is good
cause 17" get heavy.

Mouse: dont buy their
                                   overpriced bull.

UPGRADE BATTERY to 9 CELL.
useless having a small battery
sorta defeats the purpose.

as long as it doesnt say the word integrated it should be fine.


use this as a rough guide.
or not at all.

Short Play 15

1: What are you doing today?

2: I've got a board meeting.

1: Oh yeah? I've got an interesting meeting

Don't Forget To Floss!

I like fluffy things, like candyfloss.
I like pink things, like candyfloss.
When I was five I was sick and my mum bought me some candyfloss and I ate it and then I threw up. Since then the thought of candyfloss has made me sick. I fucking hate candyfloss.

Wrote this four years ago

A young boy had a good night. He got drunk, got high, got laid. It was the first time he’d done any of these. He had a good morning: he was hung over so he smoked a pack of newports (found on his brother’s desk) while reading the newspaper (found on his father’s) front to back. This was a new experience. He felt dirty. He took off his dirty clothes and ran himself a bath. The water was grey. He lay in the water and waited to be clean.

The dirty boy walked under the black sky, through the white rain to school. Sitting behind his wooden desk, with its metal legs, on his plastic chair. When asked what was wrong he told his teacher I’m a dirty boy.

As he walked home in his muddy shoes he cycled through what he’d learnt that day. He kept his eyes on the water in the gutter the whole way home while he stepped on every crack. Upon his arrival he found the front door locked and the pocket he kept his key in empty. He stepped around to the other side and walked in the open back door. Soon enough his clothes were on the floor and he was in the grey water.

Nights later he watched spiders abseil the walls from his place in the water. He posed to the shadowed mirror. Exposed his yellowing teeth. Poked his pinkish tongue, licked his smudged skin. Closed his grey eyes. Dilated his pupils.

In class he scratched his arms and pits. Licked his lips with his liquidless tongue. He excused himself to the bathroom, but it only held toilets and taps. He ran up and down flushing and running but the water was withheld, he could only wet his hands and feet. At lunch he left.

The next day he missed school for the first time, preferred to lay in the grey. The day after, he woke up in an empty bath and didn’t know what to do. He turned the taps back and forth to no effect, no drip. He knew he was unclean. Looked down at his hands, grey; his feet, grey. He looked at the mirror with crossed fingers and saw his face. Grey.

Pills

Our family is a diseased thing. We all have pills. We share them. “Do you want some?” We share everything. Everything looks disgusting. Things ooze inwards. Our disease grows inward. Clutter spreads through the house. I am beginning to smell like my Father. I never leave the house. We are forgetting to speak. “Want some?” There are crusts. There are cracks. There are piles of dust. My Sister has dirt on her face. My Mother is swelling up. The windows are clouded over. There are hand prints. I am never hungry anymore. The lights don’t work anymore. No one goes to work anymore. We are paid not to leave the house. Something is growing from my back. We itch each other. Pills are delivered. We try to communicate. “Want?” “Some.” My Father cannot see. My Father cannot hear. He opens his mouth for pills. Sometimes I don’t give them to him. My Mother cannot walk. My Mother cannot leave her bed. Her sheets are crumbling. My Sister sleepwalks. My Sister does not wake. My Sister does not speak. The doors are locked. I scratch skin off my scalp. The floor is covered. I hear noises. I shake uncontrollably. I can no longer smell. The hairs are peeling off our bodies. My fingernails are black. There are no more mirrors. There is a film over the walls. The towels are disintegrating. My Sister coughs. Cuts no longer heal. There are no more pills. Things are beginning to blur. I breathe.

Excuse me I'm just swagging a few things out for my own personal gain

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