peter jerrim

bob, bill

you said the music would play all day but I didn’t expect this, the microphones picking up every susurration, I don’t think you had the slightest idea how that would affect me, well this is the result, every sound is a colour and every colour breaks into pieces, OK there are residues, finessed emotions, tips of angry continents like tips of leaves, if only I could resolve the meaning in your mind, because this is my mind and you are welcome to it

I said brothers who take matters into their own heads, that’s us, that secret solidarity, compact to squeeze our heart

think nothing of it, you said, there’s more where that came from, no weakness asked for and none expected

then grace is all I ask, I said

or footfalls on planets where no one comes