Ode an die anonymen

(Schande über Sie)
Wenn irgend jemand rief Sie mutig
Sie wissen, dass ihr eine Lüge
Falls irgend jemand rief Sie mutig
Sie wissen, dass ihr eine Lüge
Haben Sie jemals das Gefühl, dass die Leute sehen können, über Sie?
Ich weiß, dass Sie nicht-Sie wissen, dass Ihr Betrug leer
und wann fühlen Sie sich wie Ihre Haut ist in Brand
die Hitze Pricking Dir tausend Sandkörner
diese liegt Aufholjagd mit Ihnen
und wenn Ihr Gesicht tatsächlich schmilzt
ein Tag in Kürze
zu zeigen, dass der Zerfall liegt innerhalb
wir werden sehen, dann werden wir
, ist hässlich wie die Sünde!

Ode To Anonymous
(shame on you)

If anyone ever called you brave
you know that it's a lie

If anyone ever called you courageous
you know that it's a lie

DO you ever feel that people cAN see through you?

i know you do-you know your a fraud-empty-rattling around within your tiny mind

and when you feel like your skin is on fire
the heat pricking you like a zillion grains of sand
those lies catching up with you

and when your face actually melts
one day soon

revealing decay, sticky, sweating within

we'll see then shall we
oh yes we'll see

who is ugly as sin!?

Ode To Anonymous Inflil'traitor'

Jamie & Sammy forever

Due to a possible lock down,
Jamie may not
receive his call today.



My girlfriend right,
she's really hard man.
If anybody ever fucks with me I just set Sam on 'um.
She sort's 'um out.
She's amazing.
One time, swear to god, she stabbed me.
Right here. Three times.
No... I deserved it.
I fucked up big time.
Fuck.
Taught me a lesson.. fucken right..
She's mad like.
Totally loves me man!
She's totally fucken amazing...
I mean...another time right..
(sound of telephone intercepts)
that's her now....
is it...?



The familiar recorded message
from HMS Dame Phyllis Frost Women's Prison
aka Deer Park,
asked in a monotone
if I would receive this call.



A quick nod over to Jamie,
whose eyes lunged out toward me
inquisitively;

hop over to interview room one Jamie.
I'll just put you through.

1984

When I left home, my little sister wrote me a letter on her shinny aluminous green writing paper usually reserved for special occasions or times like this, and sent it.



I had only moved out one week before.


Lindsey's careful handwriting told me I had missed out because she had been allowed a chippy for tea that night, but I was lucky, since last night it was Mum’s mince and tatties!




I remember being chuffed to receive my first letter through the letter box of my first flat, but that's not all. Whilst holding in my hands, those slightly tattered sheets of paper inscribed with my sisters words, I felt something that can only be described as clenched from within. Suspended between the lines lay an absence of the other and gripped by a pang of sadness, I turned the volume up and made more toast.