my head festers somewhere amongst
art, life - sic
and situations encountered as a paramedic, sick.
sick, shit, spit, piss, blood, gangrene, sometimes
chasing discoloured odious rainbows. that rise
like smoke ring speech bubbles
out of this urban urinal,
of endurance, suffering, humour, sorrow, deceit and loneliness.
my art work fumbles around these snapshots attempting to understand
umbrellaring somewhere between intuition and reason.
here are - what?
(nitrous oxide guttered bullet cannisters)
paving slab mutterings under starry puddled paths,
that reflect back altered cultural fragments,
medicine maybe nature,
to be reimagined into something.
some thing that sometimes means something
and more often than not - doesn't.
failings and flailings