21 October 2011

Love is the law

That electric prickle of awkward instance pierces my skin like tiny dragons teeth and rains down on my head like bags of hammers. I stand embarrassed before the blank ignorance of my judges – speechless at their presumption. I am an innocent man. The crimes I committed were acts of love. They say that I’m a user and a lowlife dog, but I’m just wild that’s all. Don’t take my drinking hand – that’s all I got left – my right.
I’m pillared salt and codeine rush. You have to learn to trust the daggers thrust. You have to look within to see where you been. Spastic colon and diarrhoea mouth – my jury has been selected from jelly mountains. My fate is sealed before the judges of certainty in apocalypto jack boots. I’ve been a naughty boy and ought to be locked up with all the other glorious saddle bums who dared to live a while.
Love is the law - the law is love. Say it with feeling, repeat it endlessly until you are hoarse, or you get busted for feeling too much. Perhaps the cops will beat you with their love truncheons - if you are lucky. If not they’ll throw you in solitary with a hundred other misguided amoebas who dared to dream big in the isolation of their single cells.
They say you should write from experience. I write with my elbows; I need the room for expansive statements. It’s time to stand up and fight. Who? You’ll find out as soon as you stand up.

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