WE ARE NOT HERE - ben brooks


ben brooks

You are letting it running and looking forward then looking back then running this is slipping you are to trip it has been written those who succumb are not let go with no marks, scars, cuts or heavily diminished sub-lists of liberties, contacts or family members they perish in the night raids with the Soviet soldiers and the founding fathers I cannot see past the post “This way” I can see behind the post “The next post is a trap” and the road behind is a golden palace and the road ahead is a fog in which cars crash and children die, children never die, death is maturity in brine eyes wide claw hands break them to broth and feed yourself in cold winter the bear will stay away his bicycle is broken and the blue cars have taken his legs the prophet knew the prophet knows nothing the bear was a deist and he is not going to stand over you and you are going to be fed blue purple pouch higher than the bears kiss lower than the bears butterflies and colder than the last day.

Ben Brooks
Wind-up Chronicle
Haruki Murakami