idiot boy in his rusty metal shed of cold air.

(Polyvinyl Acetate dreams of a lost summer)

Already idiot boy is running backwards and
forwards between chaos paper flinging blotting
and careful manipulated base metal work..

This is not ideal, but necessary..

I thought about this in more depth whilst sat
on my bench yesterday in town, trying not to
let the heavy footsteps of fat hooves squeezed
into dainty shoes thunder past like accelerated
pigs in knickers running to god only knows (and
cares) where.. distract.
..and you can fuck off screaming into
your plastic hands with your own
self importance..

It won't save you..

it really won't..