Am I Dead

Did the classic this thing isn't 

working so I took some more.

The Twilight Zone shot a

rainbow straight out of the tv at me.

Pete had taken his socks off

his feet looked like pig trotters.

John played with his pen knife,

smiled.

I went to bed. Cursed the tropes.

Diesel engine Goan trance.

Ceiling went paisley.

I was as simple as feared.

Spent most of the 90s feeding

off beginning, middle, end.

Now I could care less about

what happens next.

And so the ceiling returns, says fuck

you and your narrative.

I'm going paisley, see this,

it makes no sense, and neither do you.

I am eternity, when you saw me

and texted Brooke am I dead, you were.

And you will be again and again,

fuck you, I don't care what happens next.

Pull your collar up, lean into a doorway

as L.A. police robots reign supreme.

Mechanical death squads 

will blind fire lasers across streets.

You will be more and less dead than

when you crouched behind cars

that time in Berlin on New Year's Eve

black powder in the back of your throat.

Next is next, idiot. I am paisley, was

loomed in the town of Paisley.

And I'm here, again, to impel you

to stop binge watching your life.