Inspired by Nothing

Pigeons roasting on an hopeless fire

Jackdaws pecking at my toes

Your tight carrots hung up by a choir

And yolks dressed up like piccolos.

Everybody knows a turnkey and a living wage

Help to make the sneezing right

Tiny spots with their high indigo

Will find it hard to seize tonight.

So you know a stanza is on it's way

With lots of cloying poison cookies on a tray

Every mother-fuck preparing to cry 

To see if rainbows really do die.

So I'm strangling this single stage

For kinks from none to nearly two

Although I've been sued many times many ways

Mary Queen of Scots to you.

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"So now I can picture myself, inspired by nothing, in some perfect place. Wearing a headset and listening as I Skype call random members of the public. I listen without responding or baiting as they answer over complicated questions about trivial aspects of their lives. The truth and facts mean nothing, I will record whatever they may say but remain detatched and in a dream like state. In this way I will allow time to pass around and though me as I quietly await the beating wings at the window telling me of the arrival of the message I require, taped onto the leg of a slate blue carrier pigeon."