Voodoo


Objects of a broken currency that give me no more purpose and meaning than a well dressed voodoo doll – These branded footprints from at least seven pairs of shoes some less worn than others though my caterpillars have been round the globe – And even Jewish settlements.


There’s a hollow sadness folded in the laundry bags, still sealed for now. A price ticket stapelled to my CKs shouts “paid for” and tells me that yesterday’s dirt has been sent to eternity.


I should pack this shit up and send it all to the haunted people gathered at the palace gates boiling water and watching the BBC tell another world in a foreign language that their future has crumbled.


Or maybe I’ll just burn the fucking lot of it, stick some pins in my leg and force myself to get on a plane.


Sev t en Pilphlis 23


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