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Boredom is greyness in
beauty
—Mister Ray Davies
Say what?
say boredom is big riot in the streets of the heart
with the volume turned to zero
beauty on mute still sounds
sounds like one million voices shouting for bread and fashion
yah yah gimme bread and fashion
imagination is
the auto-eroticism of boredom
patience is a long distance runner
boredom is patience on the run
imagination puts her sneakers on
get that genius rock on the panic rock
a stone rolls on
I’m bored I’m bored
I’m so bored it’s got me shaking all over
So bored—just wanna slash
Intention
across white space
So bored—just
wanna walk
downtown
with a hard-on on all day
So bored—my
monocle gets fogged
these
eyes burn so bright
I’m so
bored I can see Neptune and Pluto
with naked eyes
So bored—I can hear your heart beating
like
drums from across the street
No
stethoscopes please—we’re young
No stethoscopes on the young!
No moisturizer!
No hair conditioner!
No deodorant!
No shaving I’m too young to shave
too young
If youth is spelled L-S-D
I think I’m on the come down
if it’s okay, do you think you could hold my hand?
I think I’m coming down
do you think you could meet me in the shower?
I think I might be coming down
I think I’m coming down off this half-hit of youth
I think my youth is coming down
And if boredom is spelled U-S-A
I guess I’m cashing in
with a side order of—fries and Coke
when even morse code sounds like—rock n’ roll
I get so bored
my politics sing songs on black eyeliner and
silkscreen manifesto
So bored—I wear my sweaters tight,
beatbox Beethoven in the 7-11,
read Heideigger from the dead of night
till the New
Dawn Fades
So bored—now
it’s got me shouting at my friends
So bored—I can’t get my mouth to work
haven’t been able to use the
telephone
once this week
I’m always
too loud or too quiet
I’m always an hour late or an hour early
Can’t seem to get my shit in time
Can’t seem to get my shit in time
my shit in time
with you
Love is a situation not a condition
Love is situationism
I'm so bored I can’t even tell—text from experience
I’m so bored I can’t even tell—sex from loneliness
I don’t know—
Maybe boredom is wanting too much
is time bomb ticking
tick-ah
tick-ah tick-ah
And
maybe I want too much
or not enough
Ian Curtis says Love Will Tear Us Apart
Oh Ian—that’s no fun anymore
all the pretty boys got their panic sneakers on
Ray Davies he got his panic sneakers on
patience rolls
rolls you down Sherbourne and Bloor
genius or a rolling stone—same thing
roll it down the hill
if imagination is boredom’s panic attack
run on let it run
the genius rock vs. the panic rock
sneakers on!
by Henry Mak
from: Melodramas, ©2002
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