Automatic Writing

They stand and burn brightly. The intensity leaves the past nebulous, something apart and separate. Flickering images like old newsreel. All contained, hologram like, in each splinter and in each hidden moment. The bumbling sycophant wears his mayor’s clock and bellows forbidden equations through a bull horn. The freedom fighter dandy stands cocky in pretentious Italian leather screaming at great neon billboards. The wrinkled owl-eyed scientist combs through hidden histories and reads the auguries of the times to find the glowing impenetrable machine of history – composed of things trampled underfoot. Giggling madmanchild stands at all the wrong angles and recreates the laws of his world with sinister scalpel and sculptured flesh. Mess of a man sits on the city streets that he has spent years trying to fuck, watching endless tracing lines of blurred movements, people, cars, and city throwaways, and sees the non linear symbol we have created, a sneering and carnivalesque face, blind in both eyes.