The office is cold today. All the heaters are off. Its May. Heat goes off in May; must be stale after winter. My hands are like blocks of ice, albeit blocks of ice with veins and muscle, tendons, and blood.
I once knew how to say “My life is in ruins” in eight different languages. Which was nice. I think I might start a new project to continue this.
If you enjoy reading this, please consider donating your soul.
I remember getting up in the morning and staring at the cracks in the ceiling, putting on trousers, a shirt, not too bad, off to work, hit by a car by the park but I’m here, car came off worse, three broken ribs and a lost tooth, makes the car sound altogether too human, still, musn’t grumble, in the office, sat at the desk, the screen was an opening into the soul of the work, computer crashed, work is soulless, had coffee, woman screamed, blood dripping from my chest, pulled out a bit of the radiator, hadn’t seen that there but I might get a few quid for it at the scrap merchant, she’s still staring, I go away, feel cold, she’s all cammo for snow, her mate comes up and says she looks like she’s seen a ghost.
I like to stare at you
in the face
when you’re asleep
I try to tune into your thoughts
and
in case I manage
I’ve plugged your brain into a vcr
I’ll sample your dreams and release them
as a limited edition
each tape in a different coloured box
I like to look at you when you’re asleep
breathing your exhaled air
to sup on what makes You
then to use it to
blow up balloons
I have many balloons
yellow red and blue but
sometimes the air escapes and
they deflate
then I worry
that you’re going to die
and so I go back and check the vcr
you never know,
I might catch a glimpse of you leaving
No-one knew about any building works, but the morning after the fire alarm had allowed us to go home early we arrived into work to find a new lift in the foyer.
“What the hell..”
The lift cut through Maggie’s office, so she was right to be annoyed. More right than anyone esle, in fact, as she owned the company. If she didn’t want the lift there then there would be some explaining to do.
“Hey maggie, you got a mult level office now?”
She stormed to the nearest phone and angrily pciked up the handset before looking confused.
“What the hell is this lift doing here?” she said, to no-one, the phone limp in her hand.
“More than that, Mags, how did the damn thing get built so quickly. I mean, yesterday there was no lift. Today, lift. Thats not right. ”
Toby was right, as always, so she ignored him and asked sandra her PA whether her files had been found.
—
Nothing changed for a week, and the staff became used to seeing the lift, doors shrouded with yelloe tape that warned of a line not to be crossed, staring at them when they visited the foyer.
You wanted to know
to understand and so
you asked
what it meant, why
it was there and
who the words
were for
I said
that really
I didn’t know
there was no
purpose
and anyway
what purpose is there
to get to some job
get home and
eat
watch the telly and
perhaps on a
special occasion then
to fuck
And thats why it
was there
some words on the screen
for you to ask
and wonder at the
narcissism and the
fear
there’s no reason at all
no target or goal
just a distraction from the next
hyperlink, and death
Amended 31 May 2014
I have now been at work for thirteen and a half hours.
Each page that
proves an existence
(at least at the weekend)
fills the diary with a
history, of
hope, that it
meant something
something good,
positive
a life used to the full
not pissed down the drain
with inertia,
and the desire to explore but
only as far as the pub or
the next TV channel
The light of the morning is ignored, period, as the darkness of Monday morning percolates through the office like lead being poured into shot moulds.
Ordered microphone for minidisc. Hurrah. I shall record the world.