WHAT SEPERATES US FROM THE STREET

 

Joyful fear incline concrete bones matter

 

Pick up a new script empty old found things

 

Scatter them between us and the street smeared with

 

Everyday fluids blood piss etc

 

 

What came before will come again they say

 

Yes we are talking about the apocalypse

 

That separates us from the rolling news

 

Steam rolling its way into oblivion

 

Our favourite world 

 

A swift kick in the nuts away from the broken tarmac

 

Roots push up through patchworks of paving

 

Rejoice they say.