Entered the city in a malodorous metal tube with wheels that sashayed through satellite towns, no mans lands and the edges of nowhere. People hiding hangovers with epic shades clutch coffees as if they really need the hit, swerving tourists in the endless search for an end to the ache of ethanol. Pensioners lackadaisical, teenagers obnoxious, workforce on their knees and then me with my head in the clouds in a city of dreams.
( J )
X
I feel out of body, a brain out of it’s housing and a heart so far outside it’s cage that it resides on my sleeve. A maze of molecules dancing on atoms, living off the haze of gyrating sight lines mimicing technicolour psychedelica – and then some.
( J )
X
Canvas covered and walking north with a pattern indicating sobriety, route marked by the stars, the sea at arms length and shell underfoot. The distant hiss of holidaying louts the warning sign; don’t come this way son, follow the map, save your day.
( J )
X
Sheets of sea and sunlit sand, where are you now?
( J )
X
Cinematic skylines await,
( J )
X
Surviving on slithers of you, the ocean to my shore, the sunlight to my sky, aching for your presence. Gone for too long, minutes are eternal when you aren’t around and I’m fading; ready for your return.
( J )
X
Dancing in the four winds & ready for love.
( J )
X
Steel over oceans and I’m fawning over photos.
( J )
X
Outbound, wishing for the sun to stroke our skin on holiday in the motherland and light our juggernaut journey. Tarmac beckons, a stereo at capacity with chemtrails of Springsteen, Adams and Vök await the expectant ears of south coast ring roads and the empty souls of seaside towns.
( J )
X
Joe / Man Not Machine 