The inward facing life and times of a minstrel from beyond.
I am not here to help, merely to resent. The least pliable materials imaginable combined within that initial bang to form this body. As long a time as it all took to combine, suppressed under the weight of dying stars. Gases no longer - but eyes, toenails and vicious tongue...
I am not here to support or advise, complement or even tolerate, simply to ignore with extreme prejudice. To maintain excommunication and build upon an ever increasing outward defence. Higher sharper, blacker, whiter...
I am not here for these things, because I am not from here. I never was. This has been confirmed to me time and again and continues to be so. The space between the language, the vacuum where thoughts are no longer born, a blanket of blank looks and fallen gazes. As I sing out loud, these earth songs - but only to myself...
And the talking - but the talking - goes on like the dripping of a broken tap while everyone else is trying to sleep, small and echoing. Laser light. All wavelengths in unison, continuous, and irrelevant for being so. The concept of infinity being lost on the majority...
Red, straight, defended, suppressed. Resentment, alien, jealousy, and far too lazy for any useful rage. Sloth within blood flow causes and affects a single eye needle. Pronoun and preposition error, syntax disintegration, contact equalling immolation. All false rhymes to distract from the simple fact that I simply do not belong.