The Age of Reason

What’s that you say? You want more bad poetry from my phone’s dark, dank, unread memory? Well, isn’t that fortunate! Here’s another piece of poetry which isn’t really poetry, it’s just a few words I strung together whilst waiting for a bus one cold evening (or something like that, most of these things are jotted down at such moments, to pass the time until I can crawl back into bed).

I told her that the only man truly capable of love,
absolute,
soul-wrenching love,
was the same man whom is capable of
the purest hatred.

And I hate;
she knows that, at least.

But do I dare to love,
Or attempt to love;
to disturb the universe and follow my madness
or am I scared of being alone,
of solitude,
of myself?

If we’re still in the Age of Reason,
You and I and Man as
The Nadir of it all,
then I’d be glad to be fucking insane.

20140408_112309
There was a funny part of the wall where someone had written ‘Do you have a girlfriend? If you’re fuckin’ is as bad as your jokes then I feel bad for her!’ I can’t remember what the joke was it was written in response to, but it made me grin fora little longer than it probably should have done.

 

Y’know, I’ve never really thought about it before, but it’s fascinating how many pictures I own have been taken in the bathroom’s of pubs. I find grafitti quite fascinating, I don’t mind admitting, but the personal grafitti that you are almost forced to read in a bathroom. Particularly in the Caitiff, where toilet grafitti plays something of an important role at several points through out the narrative, but especially on both the front covers of my Broken Polemic experiments, Adjective Narcissism and God Metaphor.

I’ll talk about those covers soon in greater detail, but they were both taken in the bathrooms of pubs. Weird, eh?

This picture was taken in the bathroom of one of my university buildings in Salford. Immediately after the English Literature class broken up, I used to go to this toilet before I walked back to the train station, and there was always some new piece of grafitti, even jst a single line, although once someone wrote the entire ‘I Am The One Who Knocks’ monologue from Breaking Bad; I think I still have that picture somewhere too.

I’m going to go back to Adelphi one day, and see if this wall’s still here, and what the younger years of university students have done to it.

Is it odd that I’m feeling a little nostalgic for a bathroom wall? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

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