Everything Morrissey predicted in the '80s is coming true
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

for these days, these dog days, these white-tiger-mauled-Roy days
these autumn days full of a lack, a nothingness, a boredom

they are celibate

distant

walking by each other

positively
refusing

the lightest touch, the brush of one strand of silken hair
absolutely no tethers

hands are kept to the self
thoughts are kept to the self

the contrary are traitors
the contrary are dirty
the contrary want fornication, a mingling of fluids, the smacking of flesh

even worse, though
the contrary want a dueling of words

that is too much
for our mental mills to grind

here we only sand emotional MDF, intellectual plywood

mahogany grain would gum up the works but good
and we can't possibly bear to get out hands dirty, to move the hands past self
to fix something so very, very sticky

 

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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