| Daring off the road
|
| To go where no-one knows
|
| Fading
|
| She can not speak my name
|
| I’m jealous of the rain
|
| Falling
|
| The blackness of her stare
|
| Is poisoning the air
|
| Which we’re breathing
|
| Behind distorted eyes
|
| That which we despise
|
| Loving
|
| Daring off the road
|
| To go where no-one knows
|
| Fading
|
| She can not speak my name
|
| I’m jealous of the rain
|
| When it’s falling
|
| The blackness of her stare
|
| Is poisoning the air
|
| Which we’re breathing
|
| Behind distorted eyes
|
| That which we despise
|
| Loving each other to death
|
| Eyes diffused with mercury
|
| Veins filled with the impurity of lead
|
| Eyes diffused with mercury
|
| Veins filled with the impurity of lead
|
| In the hospital light intensity of the cafe, he gasps bitter coffee,
|
| shifting heavily on rancid furniture
|
| Nobody speaks English here and he submerges his identity in the anxious cadence
|
| of unsympathetic sounding discourse
|
| With time the ego slowly emerges and the desperation urges his rash exposure to
|
| the rancid night air, drinking breaths of sewer sod and smoke, scoring
|
| liquorice black pollution onto the soul
|
| He retches and watches the poison hit the sewer grill, tremulous he glimpses an
|
| artist sketching him from the cafe window, charcoal tip capturing his trauma on
|
| paper
|
| Is this real?
|
| Is this happening?
|
| What must he look like to the artist, the observer?
|
| The reflection in the window surprises him, he scarcely recognises himself
|
| Why did they poison him?
|
| They left this detail out of the script, the director capturing his real
|
| reaction
|
| He’s a professional and delivers a professional performance, they can’t catch
|
| him out |