¬ frequencies #3

a small boy practises his life, vacuum sealed.
walking hand in hand feels good, but defencelessness comes like miserable tiny plastic bags that litter the city nowadays and super-fine grey vapours creep in anywhere,
the same smell like the canal when i was a kid: slithery from algae with stale waste dissolved in the water.
years behind shiny surfaces and purposeful lists of pretentiousness. just listen and subscribe to another smart-arsed workaround.
waited and fed them, with taxes, fuck greed.

for days i have been standing calmly on broken bottles, and one night i walk through the exit and it feels like an execution.
clearly in front of me: a black tunnel of razor-wire teeth and protruding molars that twist up the hill towards plain vertical black bars which fade into the distance.
i dig myself into an escape from here after downloading 10 pints of Guinness.
sleep is dripping over my face, it creeps over my cheek, through every limp, eyes swollen, nearly shut.
someone injects my entire body and i am gone.