Agreement

by nat213

The following is a poem I drafted while on the nod last week. My intention is to try and capture what it’s like to be on the nod, at the mercy of  disjointed but pleasent thoughts. If anyone has any comments as to how successful they think this attempt is I would love to hear them.

To all those readers who are concerned at my recent Radiohead-esq move into the avant-garde, don’t worry, I plan to write a a straight-up non-experimental post soon. It will probably detail the time when I got thrown out of rehab for cooking home made drugs in my room.  Subscribe to the blog to make sure you don’t miss it.

And to anyone new who is not into this kind of thing, please scroll down and you may find what you are looking for there.  Many thanks for reading X

Agreement

Sleep is

five minutes
nodding to
a methadone blowjob

yeah…

John’s nodding –
he’s my friend

why –
was I

at that
party?

I left
a compliment

for my uncle
on the opening
of his Wine School

to sleep

I fill
my ears
with foam

and bloom a rose,
glistening

Police!
At Chalk Farm Station
in scalding neon

I haven’t
seen
sheep
for days

we had a lovely
chat over coffee,
‘Good is the perfect position for you’,
she said

then I had a job interview
to be
a gluttonist

Camberwell Road
is bare
under the

morning fog

must find
must find Birkbeck
must find my pickup
must find…

gorgeous
women eating
stolen carrots

sleep is

a million pieces
sprinkled
like
salt

over the night

the overground
is running now
and we,
the potent and poignant,
remember,

in
sleep
this is a
blurry translation

 

 

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