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Thefateofneutralnorway.wordpress.com

This is where everything happens, see, it's relative to what goes in and on and up and down and round and round. Nothing but anything is worth the bluffing or rebirth that I give this but it lives with bliss so listen,

Bitches.

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On The Sleeve

Do you ever think you're ill?
I do.

I'll share this with everyone in the room,
My grandfather died in pain.
When I last saw his body it was
Just skin wrapped on bone and he was dying.

You don't smoke do you?
No Grand-da.
And he punched me lightly on the cheek.

A man I could never be.
My other grandfather,
He whistles for his wife

Whe-whe-whe-whe-whe-whei.

And when he dies
I won't shed a tear.

And so it makes me wish
Makes me scream at my wet ceiling
makes me balk at the heels
That I didn't
When John Sheppard
Last good man on earth
Died with a tumour removed
That was bigger than
My own sullen and aborted emotion.

Charlie Cojone, Therapist.

Charlie Cojone
Why did you ever think
That if someone likes you
There must be something wrong with them?

Because you're reassuring them
With your pathetic affections
Mumbled love
And pseudo-erections.

Lah de-dah
Oh your aching heart.
Having a hard time
Telling yourself
That they are okay.

You can't fuck
And come
Because you're busy
Patronising them with an orgasm.

You can't help but
Do a sickly sweet smile
At every little thing they say.

There must be something right
With someone
Sticking their neck out for you
Like that.
Letting you fuck them
Letting you think you're therapist.

Goris Moreland's Legacy Lives On.

Goris Moreland
Started fucking his son
And I smiled at the bottles on the doormat.

'Is this going to go fast Grandpa?' I asked, nonchalant.
'Yes, and in a week you'll have your own false teeth.'

When are all of you going to get married?
Yes I'm talking to you, when?
Because you know what?
I'm not.
I'm going to raise my one night stands
With a hundred and one acquaintance's hands.

They'll grow up
Mixed up
Messed up
Fucked up
And all dressed up
In people's clothes
As if they were someone.

Goris Moreland
Started thinking in parables
It's pretty hard to remember what he said now,
Speaking slowly to his son.
Something like:

I'm doing this for your own good.

And he was, I'll give him that. But it didn't stop me wanting
Something better.

A Great Conveyor

The man was surviving as an underground prostitute
He's socially insecure
Very obsessed with his own image.

Let's advise everyone to be diplomatic.

Your daughter's death is ageing you.
No leads mate.
To be honest she's dead.

I bet you'd love to kick the shit out of him.

The other girls are left alone.
Louise and the others are alone.

The German authorities are no good.
It's a great obstacle to living.

We'd be in each other's arms if we weren't on different sides of the room.

It's six years on now.
Life will be easier.
Everybody's life is going by.

I'm on this belt it seems,
A Great Conveyor.
And I can't get off.
I can't.

Yeah, I get along with them.

It's not long now
And I couldn't tell you how un-ready I am
But I guess it's happening
And so we'd better choose something nice to wear
Cos we've got to look hot
Even if our lives are shit
At least we'll look nice
And in the end
Isn't that all we have
Our fucking pretty faces?

Yeah I'm twenty now
But for how long?
And for what means
will I mean to extend this
Umbilical dream?