I chew gum and message comrades
as I wait for you on the corner of Albert Street and Leith Walk.
I see you in the distance wearing red blouse and black cardigan, an angelic vision in hellish Leith. An hallucination of feminine beauty.
We ascend Calton hill together. I
hold your bag whilst you remove your cardigan on this humid evening.
We find a free bench on the other side of the monument. It's quieter
here and we've a perfect view of the castle ready
for the imminent firework display.
We talk about our grandparents for a while and zip up our coats as night
grows cool. Teenagers experiencing vodka for perhaps
the first time become violent nearby. We sit close together on the top of the bench, sometimes
standing for a better view.
Back down in Leith we enter a bar on Elm Row. I grasp your thigh as I
push past you to go to the toilet. I experience a similar
sensation as to that of ingesting MDMA; everything becomes hazy &
there's that sick feeling of coming up. We decide
That you shouldn't call in sick to work
Tomorrow as you're too conscientious and responsible.
This morning the ecstatic seagulls seemed
to mirror my mania.
one requires ecstatic greco-roman endurance
to withstand your ecstatic ineffability
the moon's aura hypnotises you in the park
it's 10pm and unseasonably mild
we're sharing a bottle of Italian beer
on a metal bench
you turn to me in slow-motion
awakened from our lunar reverie
by the offer of a sweet sip of continental lager
The consolations of wind and prayer are sufficient (sometimes)
And yet we do seek refuge in the depot
Inebriation is swift and total
Eyes closed, singing softly
The jacket is impossible to adorn
The keys are elusive
The stairway is problematic
The polite grin wavers
It'll flicker out soon when
You tell me you want
to forget all this
When my lips become maroon perhaps my other limbs will stand a chance, the objective being erosion. The way things stand. Perhaps I have become prone. After all.We feed on her majestic mist trails. Humbling confessions of weariness and ineptitude. Someone grins in our general direction, prophesying an ambiguous Edinburgh. Slinking into sunsets. Feeding alien sunsets into historical simulations, the objective being to increase the probability of inaccuracy. Wintry juice is maroon by default and my limbs are conveyed by horrific magnetic influences, as a matter of course. "You actually wrote this pish?" he queries, incredulous, disdainful. "Aye," I murmur. My gestures, demeanor and tone of voice convey insurmountable lethargy. (Fade out to overcast morning, ominous synthesizer tones).
Orange streetlamp light reflected in a rain puddle on an overcast morning (circa perhaps 10am).
Glum laddies and glum ladies piroutte with the utmost elegance, exhibiting an indelible faith in rainshowers. Most unfortunate.
Rodriguez crashing through unfathomable corridors, repeating his name. Emergencies in the blackness of night.
Exhibiting an hallucinogenic hologram of a psuedo-neighbour in various states of ire and confusion. Rapturous applause.
The symbolic father shifts its gaze downwards. Scenes of grey weather; shifting clouds accompanied by ominous synthesizer music.
Something is occurring.
The melancholy is too exquisite,
I can't stand it,
I'll evaporate now,
He was mistaken.
There was still plenty of
to be performed in summer's
gardens of unfathomable sadness.
Nights gleaming with potency
Amber lights loom
As we endure the invincibility
of gleaming nights
of unfathomable melancholy.
The grotesque theatre multiplies
as we applaud reluctantly.
We, so feckless!
Applauded as we writhe
in shallow rain puddles
which reflect that gruesome