are you angry because im wrong or because you know im not
im back before anyone asks no earthquake woke me up and no tremor spat me out ive been underground moving through the parts of the gong that dont get photographed im the bloke with the dirty face and the dirty clothes shifting your recycling finding your bike frame under the wrong stairwell watching for the staff who look through me like im a stain on the lino and still somehow the city acts surprised when people start talking to the walls the gong has become a vessel of toothache time everyone spreading their hot grease over everything then acting shocked when the floor goes slick gym bros stare at my car like im the problem like im the war itself sitting there with a cracked bumper and a glovebox full of receipts their skin routines got more steps than a corpse with a corkscrew and still they gather under the lights flexing like ears of corn in a plain wok kneeling to mirrors but whos counting the fingers anyone else counting fingers in everyday life or is your phone the only real hand left you spend hours on here scrolling and calling it community but my silence was your mirror to the addiction fogo fuel marks the horizon payid barcode parking tap here scan there agree to terms sell the last bit of your face to park near a beach that used to be free council ruined the city for coins that dont even clink anymore just numbers sliding round like eels you get robbed on marketplace and call it modern life nobody asks why bing closed his doors nobody asks where the 20c internet went internet explorer msn the old glow the old hum some say asian lee butcher was bings dad some say bing was never meant to stay but what happened to bing really what hole opened when that cafe shut and why did nobody hear it close the lagoon has a secret vault underneath dont laugh every old place has one if you know where the tiles sound hollow they say its pipes they say its storage they always say something boring but i heard about bradbury jewels down there wrapped in cloth and salt maybe true maybe not but the city keeps its teeth hidden and you only notice when it bites meanwhile everyone cooks their own little story then leaves town and tells the next place the gong was cooked but they never tasted it proper never breathed the steelworks at the wrong hour never stood near mystics wondering why someones growing coriander again in a spot that shouldnt grow anything the days are gone and the weaker times are ahead but im back now not saved not clean not smiling just back watching the bins watching the bikes watching the fingers watching the doors that close too quietly and asking again because no one else will what happened to bing and who is still counting