Brixton Tower

photo: Gillian Wearing

What magical everies survive

This mad glitch, a house of

Krazies: losing your last cigarette

And being precious,

Finding loopholes in the fabric of space time

Where, is my pause when, is my

Cause

So many looks so silent so withdrawn.

If this is my reflection

Without sympathetic applause,

Must mean surety (don get none).

Big words spelled for me

Deep down in the blood of the sticky streets.

Well, welcome home to this!

So heavy so caught in handwriting writmess

I’ll find something paper tape pens

Userfriendlylibrary paint board nails

1-way mirrors.  Yeah, yeah I know it’s

Weird for me to be here too...

Just go with it.

Start thinking ahead now,

It’s that fresh smell of coffee.

see Nuclear Winter

A Golden Christ, sharp,

Hold me in here;

I plant new life for the Spring to move along

Its mellow way.

Cruising the suburbs in search of my Tower

Motor clashes suddenly loud in the day,

Crashing under the wooden floors

And echoing my loneliness in the night.

To get up and answer when I hear a good call,

This be precious alone time in glorious lasting

Coloured sunlight,

Just put some music on any old music will do -

Wonders

Make the veil of life transparent to see through

To the path,

That mesh of parallel universe existence in vacuum

I could fall through at any time

Delicate, so delicate

(but elastic) these frames,

This interlocking interconnected net of light

A trampoline

A space warp

And it hurts so bad

CLANK

see Self Made by Gillian Wearing