hi ho

...it's off to work I go.

Not like the clock in /clock out, corporate suit. Had to go out for a couple of hours today.
Got the call.

I told you about Matthew right? Well,when he summons - you go.

I work for him and he pays me in kind. Keeps me toppped up and off my face.
I look on it as a business relationship - take it seriously.
If I didn't I'd just, well I'd prefer not to think about it really.
No escape when he calls.

No running off to my little laptop to be free to be the face, the person behind the mask.
Without the drugs.

He runs a few clubs, private parties where you can get you anything you want. And then i have to fix it up. Big man in this city, the city beneath the shiny shiny pavements.
You know, the city you go to when you want to take a few risks, play at being naughty.

Want something to make you feel good - call Matthew, need to come down quickly, call Matthew. How about you need a favour? Need something sorting, he's the man. How about a girl? Two? Five? Boys? - they'll do anything for him.

But don't get me wrong - I don't do all the high-level stuff, not the sexy stuff, nope, i'm the gutter man, the ugly man, the stick a glass into your face man, the wipe-up the blood man.

Said enough, haven't i?

Shouldn't talk. Mustn't say too much. But here i feel safe.

Want to know more? Can I bare my soul, well what's left of it, to you?

kissy kissy

I’m waiting for something to happen.

There I said it.
Now something will.

Follows the same rules as that little butterfly flapping its wings.
Chaos?
Now I’ve said it, written it, I’ve put something in motion.
Will it start because you’ve read it or because I wrote it?
Make your mind up, work the maths out. Look up probability theory on Wikipedia.

So? I hear you say – it's just some words on a page.
Not true.

Confused?
Sorry.

It’s like this, what is the web? What is the internet?
No, not just a collection of machines networked together in a physical sense, but a bunch of minds, thoughts, opinions, emotions, experiences, and desires linked together.

It's a massive place, hundreds of thousands of machines, milions of minds in gestalt.

Each of us, each time we log on gives a little to that world, that reality, in a way we’re all networked together as well.

Every time you surf, post a comment or bought something on-line you changed the world – that reality a little.

Think you’re virus free – well think again babes.

Ever been pissed off in a forum and flamed back, then let affect the rest of your day?
You can’t stop thinking about it.
Read something on a site that you’ve wanted to share?
You’re carrying what you’ve read or seen with you inside of you. I’m infecting you right now. You’re interacting on an organic level. It’s affected you physically.
The software – your thoughts and emotions affect your hardware, your body and become part of you.

Scary shit huh.

red sky in the morning

Colder today. Didn't post yesterday. Sorry. Just couldn't.

Saw the sky this morning. Red, heavy with threat just hanging there. No sun. It was dark.

I'd been up all night - well i'm up most nights. I don't like the dark. I wait, tv on, need some noise, until I can hold it off any longer and then crash.I leave the tv on thru the night.
If something's coming to get me, mebbe they'll think i'm not alone.
I listen out at night. I can hear things. This place, this silence freaks me out.
Usually got my headphones on during the day - keep them turned up high. The music must be loud, makes me think i'm part of the party, not here.

But i can't do that at night. Need to hear - can't lock myself away. What if he comes and i can't hear it. Protect myself.

The door to the loft is the worst. I'll stand below it - i know it moves - but it won't if i'm watching it - daring it to move. It's warped slightly so it doesn't sit flat - and i know through the crack something's watching me. I know just where the crack starts and finishes. If it moves i'll know it. So i watch and wait - holding my breath. (please don't move, please don't move)

There's bad weather forcast, my heating's gone off. No oil, forgot to pay the bill. So until my cash hits the bank in a couple of days from the state I'm broke.

There, the rain's started - just a few drops on the window.
I don't like this think i'll stay on the web for while.
Hide out.

for the curious..

I’m sorry about that rant.
I was stoned…and desperate. Hah - stoned and desperate, what a combination.
I’d had some nasty dreams. Been doing some nasty things.
But I’m not kinda ready to deal with it just yet and I’m not going to tell you about it just yet.

Instead, I’m gonna try to tell you about Matthew

Like I said before, I don’t expect you to believe me, this is the web after all; we make our own realities here.Well, they say, you can write what you want on this bloody thing, I’m gonna tell you about my mate, Matthew.

Well for one - he’s not a mate.

Not the sort you can go on a night on the town with, share a few stories with. Many want to be his friend but I’ve known him the longest, seen all his secrets. Not the sort you’d want to be your friend, too likely to fuck you up.

Actually, I don’t know what to call him. Do friends feed people dope? Homemade dope at that? The sort to keep you rat-arsed for days at a time? Some do I suppose. Well I told you this town was shitty.

Sorry going off on one again. I was telling you about Matthew. I can post this here cause of all the crap you find on the web. People talking bollocks – you see, no one will understand that this is the truth.

Seeing as he’ll find out about all this anyway, I can tell you everything.

He’s a malefic – sorry? Something wrong? Yes, I’m talking sorcery, good old fashioned magic. You see my ‘friend’ - I know, actually thinking about it, he really wouldn’t call me a friend. A ‘thing’ perhaps, an object to be played with. He’d just look down that fucking perfect nose at me - wouldn’t sneer as such - but I’d know what he was thinking- a cretin, a large lumbering cretin.
Am I sounding bitter yet?

He’d call himself a witch.

Sorry getting ahead of myself. Wanted to tell you about how we met, thought that might interest you. Tell you about the day I turned into a monster.

We were maybe 16, well that’s how old I was – I don’t know about him but he looked the same age as me then. I was bored. It was raining. I didn’t want to go home just yet. So I was just hanging around, waiting for something to happen. When Matthew appeared, he didn’t so much as arrive, he was just there. Didn’t think too much of it at the time, well what do you think?
16 years old, sitting in a scummy plastic bus shelter by the dual carriageway, waiting for the rain to stop. Four o’clock in the afternoon and I wasn’t rushing home.

I know my mum would have the tea on, waiting for me to come in, tell me to put some dry clothes on, do my homework – hey at that time I was kinda good at school – they expected big things of me. Got a maths brain, they said – a dead cert to get into a good uni. Good at sports as well, just got selected for the county; I was just about everybody’s pin-up boy.
But you’re not interested in me.

That twat is dead and gone. Even to my mum.

Like I said, Matthew just appeared. But to be honest I hadn’t been paying much attention. It was only later, in the long nights, on my own in the hospital that I got to thinking about it.

One minute the bus shelter was empty, the next, he was there. He wasn’t even damp. I hadn’t seen him around at school and I took no notice of this weird, dark haired guy, covered in tattoos. Until he asked me if I wanted a cigarette.
At that age, he was already a good looking kid. I’m not gay but it was hard not to notice.
This sounds daft but there was just something about him. I don’t know, writing this now, it’s just something I remember.
He has a face that you find hard to forget; it was like, just well put together, his eyes… look - this is going to sound really weird - but he caught me just at that moment.

Just at the moment, I looked up to say, I didn’t smoke. He was cool.

I did most of the talking then on. Dunno what started me off. I just had to keep talking to him.
Keep his attention on me. Wanted to impress him.
He didn’t tell me to shut up, like most lads would have done, like I would have done to some twat waffling on at me. He just listened for the most part. Told him everything about myself. Straight out. About school, about home, everything. Sounds weird, now I’m writing it down, but look Matthew has that effect on people, I’ve seen it happen so many times.

He just listened to me.

It went on like that for a while. Two lads sitting in a bus shelter talking.
I know that it got darker because I remember thinking that I was late for tea – how my mum would have a go at me for being late, that I was getting cold. But to tell you the truth, all I wanted to do was just stay with Matthew.
This is why I followed him out by the road, when he said he was bored.
There wasn’t anything else really. Matthew said he was bored and like a stupid little sheep, I followed him, needed to stay with him.

Deep down I wanted to be as cool as him.
Even left my rucksack in the bus shelter. They found it there later.
Out there, it wasn’t safe. In the dark, at the edge of the road. The cars were throwing up a ton of spray from the rain. Busy there, on that road, rush hour, lots of tired people just wanting to get home. It felt brilliant. It was like the first adventure of my life, the first ever bit of danger. Such a cliché to say I felt alive, for the first time.I couldn’t stop giggling. Matthew just smiled at me, an odd sideways smile; he’d tilted his head slightly as he lit another cigarette. Like he was listening for something. All I could do was laugh, shit – there were tears running down my face.I know it was loud, I couldn’t hear my own voice, but I could hear him when he said ‘dare you’.
That’s all he said that night, just those two small words, ‘dare you’. I should have just gone home then. But I couldn’t.

I nodded, still giggling, and he stepped out into the road. The cars were flying past but he dodged them. Every one. Just stepped round them.
I thought the guy was a fucking god. Each time, they just missed him.

He was playing with them; he wasn’t moving fast just stepping backwards and forwards, through the gaps, between the cars as they thundered past. He swung the hand holding the fag, as the wind from the lorries buffeted him.I must have been high, because I couldn’t stop laughing, clapping and hollering at him every time one missed him.

The headlights of those cars, well they just flashed by and I swear at times he just stood in front of them, right between them. But every time they missed him. He was fucking wonderful that night.
Then, from the white line between the two lanes, he stopped and turned to me. He said it again, just those words, ‘dare you’.
Well who wouldn’t? I wanted to be just like him, I wanted to dance alongside him, and I had that skill. There was no danger; I wanted to be a god just like him. Nothing could hurt me that night. I was with him, an equal, willing to be tested, wanting to take on his challenge.

Dare you?

Yes, dearest reader, that night I dared. I followed him and stepped off the curb into the road. For a while, it worked for me too.

I danced that night; I danced among the cars and the lorries and vans. I was covered in the mist lifted by the tyres, shifting between the lights and feeling the skill. I’m not bloody lying when I said I showed him I could match him.
I was worthy of his friendship, I was there alongside him, as much a god as him. I moved with the skill and the grace of any, felt the energy lift me high, out of the way of danger, my senses told me when to dodge, when to move, just to step lightly to feel them brush pass me.

Right at the end I looked for him, looked for his approval
But he had gone.
Left me there, standing like a fucking idiot, right in the middle of the road.
Just gone.

Twenty seven bones broken.
Three skull fractures, five in my jaw. The car had torn two thirds of my face off in a giant flap. They found my earring hooked onto a wiper blade.
It was still attached to my fucking ear.

My brain was so swollen they’d had to lift a section of my skull off altogether and sedate me for three weeks until they could bring it under control.

It took seven months before I could start to talk again. Before the spit stopped oozing out of the side of my mouth. Another couple of months before I could use my arms again to feed myself.
They said I’d never walk properly again. The fractures had shortened one leg by six inches, so now all I kinda do is lurch.
All the time my mum just sat there; she didn’t need to say much. But I knew what she was thinking, why? Why had I been such a fucking idiot? Why wasn’t I home eating the dinner she’d spent the day making for me.
What had I been doing there on that road?

And I never told her. Couldn’t. She just wouldn’t get it.

And the roughest thing was that all the time I spent in that bloody hospital bed, all I wanted to do was go right out there and find Matthew again. Wanted that hit of pure enchantment he gave me that night.

I kept hoping that he’d walk on the ward. Just kept a look out for him all the time. I thought he might come see how I was. Well, he knew my name. Knew everything about me. Thought he’d just scarpered when I got hurt. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Just wanted to see him again. But he never came to the hospital. So I kept looking for him as soon as I got out. Kept on looking till I found him again.

That’s how the fucker gets you. Take that as a warning.

Ten years on, I still follow him round like a little puppy. Little kids run screaming from me. Twisted, I’m twisted round. My face twisted almost to my ear. My mouth never really shuts tight. The scars twisted round my body so I can never stand straight. My leg healed twisted, foot never points the right way.
That is, until he gives me his little shots of magic, just little tastes. Then I can walk upright, walk again without pain.

I’m sure the bastard could heal me if he wanted to. But he says he likes me just the way I am.

But my fingers still work when I’m straight, so I can type, so I can tell you what Matthew is like. As I said before, the bastard can read this. It’d make him laugh to have this stuff out on the web for anyone to see.

But he doesn’t care. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t understand the power of this world.
Of my world.

He taught me to dance then chained me to my seat. I have to find out how to break away from him. I have to escape

Honest.

coming down now

i always get pensive and poetic after, got the shakes, my limbs are cramping so forgive the typing.

It's october right?
The month where things get a touch colder and we (even in this pisshole of a city) expect to see the leaves on the trees dying back and droppping rotten leaves on pavements - but no.
Nothing. Zilch. Come on autumn, what are you waiting for?
My bread is damp and the mould grows faster, i just want to hide out in the dark but it's too humid. No chill to kill the spores.

Foggy as well.

Nights are too quiet, subdued, aware. They're waiting, pressing heavy on me.
When the breath of the serpent is around it's better to get blasted out of my skull in a club.

still wanna fuck someone but who'd fuck a nightmare like me?

wasted01

it happens alot you see_i can walksmilethink about everythingcause i'm fuckin wasted_NOt having to hold onto anything-all the time i dream = violence that only the tender+touch liquid canbring _dont need any needles {no_smoke no_ amber/nuggets of} noshiit just shiny/tinydrop of red fragiletube nasty teate then blissuckin bliss_crush the glass shards=>my hand_ shear thruthe skin andsuk the last i bleed_yeeeesss_he laugh_not to {mess myself}_can't breathe_ im panting_nobreathe_type this every hit i have this shit just gets stronger_im on the web and wasted_can't workcan't fuckin type_but i can feel my legs=feelpower m,y [dik]=> going to fuck sdomeone tonight_the light from this scren is blleeding my eyes_we're all going to diewe're al ll going to diedead ghosts tripping but you dont fuckin care about meand im wasted