
life-support - meanwhile, back in communist russia... lyrics
i don’t mean anything by this. building myself into a screen of songs – lyrics and an oddly sweet after-taste that comes back to me from this time to time
glint of street-lights the same brightness & shine sits in the palm of my hand
it’s only okay as long as i’m not thinking, and i’m not thinking
sour-sweet, caught in the back of my throat & swimming through my fingers
it curdles over orange plastic, spatters the newspaper & and i’m neither relieved nor dissappointed sickened & numbed over – yet underneath this, a quick thrill fizzes my veins, sparks a separate life into me
the machine at my side thrums blood sealing – wax colored
it catches & sucks back, back on itself. this clattering starts whenever i move, chemical smell rises in my throat, gets stuck there & i just want to get out
dull sunlight catches the plastic chairs & over-full dustbins outside the window – and i know that it will all settle back into place now the fire has died away
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