Acting is pretending to be something that you are not.

It was flowing out of me, all the toxins of the last six months, manifested in liquid format. Stained underwear and cheeks,Now I am literally blood sweat and tears. We play pass the bucket as the spit slicks back into my face.

This is my justification: i'm just another fucking poet. direct this up your arse. don't tell me where to stand now.

This is my five minute installation, my reflection on problems entered. Body contorted I am seconds from breaking I am seconds from emotional impotence. I am inventing lovers on mattresses in scout halls because god knows nothing if not peaceful sleep.

Snap shot of me holed up in river. Holding this pose because the collective demands it. We are the worst kind of hive mind. Directing is being told what to do. I am searching out the peices of anarchy that still remain in manic laughter that exists after silence falls.

Pass you a peice of my heart printed on paper. It's the only way I can show you who I am when I leave.