This is the first glimpse (almost you may recognise a line or two from twitter) of my new poetic magnum opus (yes, NEW poem – as in, there was a previous one. As in I’ve finally admitted SKIN BOOK may just be a poem).
It’s called Freakshow. Like SKIN BOOK it will come in parts. It will probably come a-part too
lip-reading the liquid crystal drumbeat.
Red dashes strafe the ceiling;
the tick tock triptych
flickers faces of a pulsebeat promenade,
a pageant scarred
from the egg-pan scraps and rancid lard
of my life.
One by one they hide their whispers in the roar,
the crowdsourced maw,
the thousand mouths
that pound and gouge
their silent cries
inside my skull,
behind my eyes,