- Vol. 02
- Chapter 12
The RoomA lens retracts.
The bagging and crabbing are done.
The actors leave.
Through an open window:
One moon and three stars.
The forth: an Airbus A380.
The curtains smell creamy lemon and cabbage.
On a mantle above the fireplace: an atomiser made of fired saliva and scrotum containing the essence of a man from a suburb on the edge of London.
He was warned but did not listen and now it’s too late.
On a milking stool in a corner: a bowl containing eyeballs contracting into pellets.
To moisten they must roll. Unfortunately, their rolling days are done.
On the wall: a sailboat thrust up toward sky.
You can't always be THAT guy, the sky seems to say.