Subdued and Unglued

clockwork orange

 

Sometime today, a jet crashed onto a motorway killing several people, yet all I can do is wonder what she looks like with no clothes on. Plunging from the sky and exploding into a ball of fire, those driving were snuffed out in a mess of flames and crunched steel. Plumes of smoke as silent spectators looked on; my attention, however, was drawn to the outline of her bra beneath that useless top of hers. It’s on the news, and it makes me feel sad, yet there’s nothing I can do about it. Worrying won’t bring back the dead, so I give them my love and concentrate on that hidden landscape she’s keeping all to herself. Those areola’s of hers, just the thought of them intrigues me. Big and juicy, or something a little more tasteful perhaps? Death comes in the time it takes to think of the smile of a loved one. It catches us before we even have the chance to kiss their lips goodbye. Sadness swallows, and so does existence. Nowhere safe except for the arms of the one you keep locked inside. The humid weather brings spiders into the house. It forces me to strip naked out of exhaustion. Contemplating masturbation, the sounds of drunken party people drift through my window. Picturing the women and their lack of charm, I read instead. A little Palahniuk, and a touch of Bukowski. There’s warm beer waiting to be had, and maybe then the image of her legs adorned in a short skirt will bring me back to life. English summer days colliding like memories of endless alleyways and the scent of freshly washed hair. It’s in the blood blisters on my toes, and how even though she’s a wilting flower, she still makes me itch. Hand prints on newly painted walls in the throes of a game of give and take. A cigarette to signal the beginning of the end. Flashing lights that stimulate chemical memory. All the lovers and their startled faces as in the blink of an eye they reached heaven.

5 replies »

  1. Talking of which, that same motorway I was on about 30 minutes (actually less but I don’t want to think about it) before that plane crashed. That said (I could not help but share) this is as usual brilliant. Not at all surprised that you should read the great Bukowski x

    • Wow, that’s scary stuff. I’m glad you weren’t involved, but obviously it’s tragic for those that were. I saw a video of the moment it happened. It’s so eerie to think that people were driving along without a care in the world, only to have their lives ended so suddenly in such bizarre circumstances. You see stuff like this happen in other countries, but rarely in England on what should’ve been just a normal summers afternoon. As always, I’m thankful you liked my piece. And Bukowski too x

      • It is really scary, I watched the video too and found it so weird to see that particular stretch of road I was on today turn into an inferno…it was quite uncomfortable viewing and yeah, how awful for the people who were actually in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’re right, things like that are so rare in England that it’s quite a shock when it happens, hence why it made the national headlines real fast.
        Anyhow, yes it was a great piece as ever, I don’t actually believe you can produce anything that’s substandard x

      • At the time of the incident I was walking around my local quarry enjoying the sunshine. Makes you appreciate the small things really, for you never know when the lights are going to go out. And yes, you get so used to seeing tragedies in other countries, that when one happens on your own doorstep, it hits home and reminds you that you’re not in some bubble. I’m always glad when you enjoy my writing. It gives me the stimulus to write more x

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