• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 09
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The screen has swallowed my eyeballs,
their fault, they became gluttons, searching the globe
desperate for hidden truth in ditches while fed on lies.

My boy brain has taken control, I feel safe in here, secure
with the grey melt of colour. He filters news of corruption
and slander, stores it on a high shelf.

He starves me of hate and softens the words of evil-doers
placing them just out of reach.

He sets up barricades in my ear tunnels, limits the numbers
of more death coming in, lets in the soothe of Bowie, offers me
'Space Oddity.'

If sleep returns then boy brain will take my hand and lead my
digested words to paper.