Big Teeth

Big Teeth

In this cloying and immaculately dressed

and politely laughing room brimful of hidden, idle hostility

you are looking at space

because nobody is in it

and rabidly filling it

with chitter chatter & tattle-tale titbits

rumours & uncharitable extrapolations

the Ins and Outs of personal lives

ugly little pits they take turns

spitting them out at anything beautiful or happy

an occult circle, a stable of conspirators

"..I wouldn't even say anything at all if

I wasn't so worried about him, you know that..."

small town talk comes rarely to your face (unless about money)

turning a red cheek and sticking out a weak chin

script makes sense when you're the hero of your own movie

you know what I mean

I can navigate the swamp better as I get older

but I do admit that on the mad, bad nights when black dog's growling

buzzing, razor toothed circular mind-saw-machine grows its spidery arms

and beneath mandibes the freezing eyes in a distantly dead stare

it craves the chaos of old habits

feeds off the whine of my impending panic attack

and in such an indeterminate period so full of pure, illogial despair

oh boy, I'd blast the bastard away with my party flamethrower

I would snort and sköl and swallow and smoke and shoot

and then black out when my furtive scoffing of secret sweets made me sick

waking 40 hours later to the slack face in the mirror

the loss of joy and wonder and the dry death of conversation

and nobody is left cheering you on as you redesign the world

and take apart your stereo again

a joke of a full-time salary gets another chuckle

after you chuck it away at the powder and booze

and it's all gone in one day and one night every fortnight like clockwork

and for a brief and sickly glad-wrapped optimism

wasted on some cheap, dumb circus trick

the temporary illusion of Power and Control and Destiny and Confidence

and you think you're hiding it from the world like you're the KGB

don't you? but guess what?

everyone knows, you stupid fuck, even your Mum

Jesus, there's a whole crowd of people

you don't know at all who are following the story as closely

as a rookie cop follows a black V8 Commodore

judge me at risk of exposing your own weakness

my conscience is as clean as your bi-annual marriage sex

Gen-X refugees like me had to learn quick

in your new world orwell where nothing you do or say

for the rest of your life belongs to you anymore

foolish impulses, your young and uninformed opinions

your inadvertently offensive bad attempt at late-night comedy

guilty double entendre twigged too late as militantly inclusive heads spin

a drunken vitriolic rant aimed at the wrong target

all of it written in permanent ink on an indestructible Encyclopaedia Earth

pored over by the millisecond by the 7 billion humourless, wilfully pedantic

talking monkeys all screeching and chucking their shit at each other

(one of said primates the prick sitting across the desk at your job interview)

nothing is forgiven now

no awkward nosedive into the shallows of shame

not a doomed and fumbling attempt to hit on your Facebook friend

who you didn't know had got married three years ago

and when a willing victim finds your Hate-Crime it goes pandemic

The indignation multiplies exponentially with the smell of blood

there will be no cure, no quarter, no mercy, no excuse, no sense, no justice

no civilised discourse, no face to face, no awareness of context or tone

no basic compassion, no attempt at an understanding of your intention

no sign of that great lost and noble art, comprehension

like conversation and the ancient practice of taking the time

decimated and rendered devoid of its meaning

not just words but whole concepts emptied of any cultural significance

History is re-remembered, re-written, re-edited nobody notices or cares

ALL PRAISE THE ALMIGHTY ALGORITHM THE ONE TRUE GOD

THE COMPANY BRAIN

dude

maybe take a break from torturing such a fried, worried mind?

pricked with forks of future timelines all ending in disaster and downfall

a hundred threats, real or imagined?

I don't know anymore it is impossible to know

I made a meditation game of ignoring verbs

or words that imply you are wrong when you know

that you are right when you have been wronged

sometimes truth lands like Tom Cruise on the roof of the seaplane

virile and capable, active and rock hard like a nugget

supernaturally focused and juiced up 2MAXCAP hi-octane ME-power

sometimes truth finds you mouth open and stunned

your winning hand vanished then reappearing opposite

in front of a grinning opponent who scoops the table with a whoop

you look down again dumbfounded at your fistful of jokers

you look up at the nods coming his way from upper management

Why, Mr Wolfy, such perfect white teeth your avatar has to smile with!

and so many ways to keep the numbers running a tiny bit longer

after the last dog gets a photo and the race has run

and the same poor old mug tears up his ticket

and goes back to jumping at the same shiny brass ring

but you, Mr Wolf, with distraction a beautiful assistant on your arm

head on over with a swagger to long line at the bar with your AAA pass

the deed is done once you confirm that you have won, yet again

Hey btw did you catch that bit towards the end where we ate your soul?