the internet went down for a bit (write n flex more)

when the brinternet down i’m a sucker for a word doc
flock back to that program older than time
microsoft office as an institution as an entity
once-overbearing hegemony, and you can owe all the laughs you’ve had
at comic sans’ expense, to office, to word
the powerpoints/the excel crew
presenters, writers, money makers
office dwellers, all have been and i ponder a future where office is a relic
where the final known copy is kept, installed on a laptop in some museum circa ~20XX
remaining somewhat overlooked but free to use
and wiped, weekly

a more impressionistic direction this year,
however going ever-further and staying true to
abstract absurdities assimilating my condition
crucial to my experience, my plot device
my welcome vice, my font of self worth
n i’m reliant to the point of vulnerability but this place is something I have complete agency over
agency to learn and expand within, to hone within/refine within
agency to not

but i want to do this forever and i want to be excited about it forever,
and i ask where to channel my energy
i ask how to control and direct focus,
i ask where motivation comes from, really
perhaps the promise of some reward, and if the price is right, then maybe i will do this forever
maybe the question is to want to want


dumb as heck and late as heck wax (plural)


pray tell/gather round, rub shoulders
holding hands/trust exercises
i really like that colour on you

hovering n standing at the side
imposing height/remarks and insight in descent
condescending those who sit around you
throbbing necks craning up and at you
craning up and throbbing for you

lil spicy juice-ass bitch gna run back round
which way they gna come back round n thru, back
fleeting visit/gna roll on thru, stand in a line n hi five me
as i run past laughing/having fun, i ripple bellies
rap very little often, save for this safe haven where i sit and
steam the motherboard and agitate the circuitry
n bring it the f back round for dat lil juice-ass ho in the sky!
reeling/feeling nauseous but embracing
a steamy raunchy clammy brain formulating
snatching flies with my dexterous hunk-brain tongue
feeling bloated but hopeful/gna bring it back round

layers of dirt and dead skin, grease/grime
affected areas/blast zones/battle grounds
from graveyards to tombyards, workout routines
sales on steam, from zero to free,
this abandoned industrial complex
the white room holosimulator/astral projection
lava moats, tv tropes and rising temperatures
laser hallways or adventuring archaeologists
zipline escape, wrist blades/blasters for the hidden boss
break ranks/lay siege, sack the town
leave none alive
let the boy watch

product of a downward spiral

i miss u & your company and
how you make me feel like me n how it feels like
we fight the good fight side by side,
n how you make me feel safe and happy and proud.
n we do right by each other, and we care
and bring out the best of each other

but now i’m being swallowed by my worst and i need you to look after me

self indulgent trains of thought

running trials,
dodging massive rolling spiky balls
predicting traps/inactivated, sliding under
dropping doors and saving victims from some fire

n you get some key what your coin(s) could never buy
coz big coin pouches never compensate for lack of
keys and relics, and testaments to deeds manifest
through cooler weapons/tools to scale infested vines
and as this hero of time beholds their inventory and sees
the grapple hooks, the new looks –
the bespoke boots, the coloured suits
fabled lenses t’see through walls and
vessels for replenishment
forgotten maps and empty slots –
to be filled with instruments of mystical utilities
that lie someplace, unfound. and all ‘unfound’ and otherwise remain
but you can’t put a price on these memories.
beating beast-kings, solving mysteries, alone but free

and i reflect on how that game comes back to mind
that distant muse; indirectly now exposed, directing some midnight stream of fleeting thought, oft distracted/redirected
into bits of question time, pangs of hunger/cigarettes
toast and youtube through bedtime and beyond n i’m writing dreams to reflect on in the mornings but it’s never enough and i yearn to remember  the dream where perhaps
i invented tongue kissing or looking inward,
seeing substance and wondrous depth and
feeling proud of my own experience. accepting
and acknowledging and respecting but denying
binaries and absolutes, discourse mapping
conceptual terrain to reflect on and explore,
and learn more on, through the day.
or to be oats one morning and wake up dreaming.
up, that day, tonguekissing breakfast

lack of dreams/less productivity for
lack of routine which i have fallen out of
shape out of which i’ve slacked and melted
shape that i am not whipped into, weaker.
lacking structure but not wanting to need structure


i’m a feckless hapless hopeless oaf n i
gotta unload – lookin for a place to chat, i turn back
yelling behind into nothing again
dropped n broke a phone again, n if i hate a lame case
i’ll take it off cos it’ll make me hate my ‘new’ phone
(case closed) n look where that got me

fish man whale-rap

fathom these anecdotal fallacies, do me
a favour and savour me/dipping out and in between
darting to and fro and forth dispatching enemies
with quick neck clicks and judo chops in delicate spots
assailants flock and swarm, they’re swept away
by tidal sweeping strikes, glancing blows, limbs splashing
fighting water-style, foes distraught by liquid guile
cascading battle-glamour rap and oceanic gloom
whale wrangling, high speed fishing – look! no bubbles

and you can fuck like a shark
cos shits real underwater
miles down where we separate the fish men
from the boys who gotta swim back up n
they got no chance, chokin all the way up
to that liquid surface where daylight glistens through
where limbs and surfboards look like seals and
there’s something in the water tonight

i wanna drown you and eat you