Sensory Degradation – Maté Jarai
July 24, 2019
In the thick of it
Drifters and beggars
cash flow architects
buy my shit or take me on
reproduce or build it up
in these streets too ancient to be named
fought over thousands of years
thousands of times
there was blood
still lingers in the cracks
and the tree bark
all flavour merges here
all colour sweats and suffers
divides and lays claim,
if only it were so.
The mesh of misrepresentations
net of pained variation
is visible here like nowhere else
she cried and I acted
barely seeing it hang high
for the first time physical
iron and rust, steel and stars,
skies beyond paler somehow.
We all have the capacity to change
and slow change we do
hermit crabs scrambling
for some new real estate
a little bigger, fancier,
but only beyond the bars
where the legends rule even stronger
where the others sleep sounder
full of something they
perceive as hope
though singular,
surely tenuous,
absolutely done.
A stone’s flow away
Medusa in my ears
not trying to look away
I can listen
don’t need to move
not going anywhere anyway,
eyes closed last night
and something like
one hundred nights before
but I’m solid on the outside,
up and down like a lunatic
the ups higher and lows lower
than ever before
I’m talking eagles, man
the stratosphere
the point where sky turns
to outer space
and I’m thinking moles and worms
fossilised layers of dinosaurs
that we’ll never find
and even lower when it rains
mole people
Egyptian Gods
undiscovered shit too deep
and then the heat at the centre
the fucking core of this
untouchable like mine
unseen like mine
because both you and I
have no idea who I really am
but this is OK as long as we are aware
because no one ever really knows anyone
ripped that line from Rules of Attraction
and I’m attracted
I’m intrigued
but no matter how much
I want to be better
you will never be her
but optimism, man
so maybe you could be
a different kind of
just as good
I’m watching
like a sea stone
while everything
ebbs and flows.