no wasted energy

Monday
The lights flicker. They stutter as if they are making a putt putt putting sound, then fade to black silence. I've come to a halt on the Converter, unable to continue, the muscles on the backs of my legs and my arms clench and unclench. The pain fading slightly as activity ends, taking with it the heat, the glow and the swirling images which had fizzed on the screen in front of me until a moment ago. I am left in an inky, silent, freezing room. The reserves are directed only at the internal heating in his chair.

Tuesday
I touch his arm. Check a reading. Adjust a sensor. A tiny Converter attached to his chest powers the LCD screen on his wrist from the movement of his lungs. He watches me, eyes thoughtful. "...not..long..now..." slides across the screen. His eyes move to the ball which has replaced my chair. It allows me to store my constant movement, even when sitting at the console. "...Swiss..Ball..good...Swiss..Roll..bad..." paces itself out along the LCD. I laugh and look at his head, at its constant unnatural angle. "You need to finish it soon" I say, "I can't keep bouncing forever". "...but..your..arse..is..so..beautiful" he replies. I smile small and go back to the Converter. We've been at rest too long and his work too needs done.

Wednesday
Every power sac is full and I've eaten well all week. More than the recommended amounts of fruit and vegetables. Omega 3 (no madness for me). Activity and body weight have to be in balance to ensure power is constant. There is even enough surplus to allow a little film watching, a classic first decade horror. He doesn't watch "...boring..." so I leave him to the radio and a buzzing kind of thoughtfulness.

train journey notes

1. What do people in Coventry say when they stop speaking to someone?

2. The club was so bad I imagined it secretly got its electricity from nearby houses. Some old lady paying £500 a quarter and cutting back on the two bar heater, whilst up the road a bunch of skanky youths are dancing to eclectic house on her.

3. When Kevin arrived at Jones&Jones he created something of a stir. Sitting huge and hearty, undeterred by the low ceiling and the grey carpet. Immune to the suspected but unprovable pacifier pumped through the air conditioning. "What's that noise" said Mr Shelley, ceasing to stroke his beard and looking up startled... "It's laughter" replied John, embarassed, as the loudest laugh ever heard on that floor shook the dust from the pot plants.

4. High rises in Newcastle with roofs like handles beside the Tyne - 6 carrier bags by a culvert.

5. And now its raining against the train windows

6. A man is singing "Bonnie Scotland", whilst another walks passed with a Scotland top on. Not exactly subtle... and we're still in Newcastle.

7. Imagine a work of art that concentrated on the idea of threat... A pile of gas cylinders and a lit match, a fraying coil on an elevator, an anonomous piece of luggage quietly ticking.

orion

No sense of danger
No constant watching eyes
Walking out of range
Of the streetlights
To finally see Orion

reflections in the glass

Minds are tidy
Lives and lights are dim
Dreams in clean circles and squares
Never to step out of them

Hawk on a lamp-post
Eagle circling the motorway
Feather and fur
In a window display

english skin looks good in passing

Wash your face in dew
On the first day of May
You'll be beautiful forever
Always touched with the glow of youth

As you walk through the park
On your way to work
Skin as clean and fresh
As the promised summer

cocopop boy

it's no good looking out the window
it can't conjure up what you want to see
all it reveals is a street and the wind blows
mixing up the rubbish with the leaves

only chance has brought you to this place
you are as random as the walking men
so irrelevant how much you change
when you go out you become one of them

you are as the bad wind that carries you
like the rubbish and the leaves in the street
here and there, here and there it hurries you
past a thousand girls you'll never meet