Spike in the red

Okay I'm nae shooting smack.
But I'm using it like smack, same thing, no?
She spikes me in the red, like drugs.
The red's no her though, it's my own effect.

Contact mechanics: feel her unique spin.
Feel her like alcohol feels her, thin -
She is waiting for one drunken night, one
that consumes children, spits out pieces, 
bigger pieces than went in.

I add the red like the artist does.
Just like me - colours as tools,
colours as codes, colours as language, yeah,
We're brothers, sure as dirt is reddish.

The big picture's obscured from here, time
in lieu of space, time travelling forward,
at /this/ time, in /this/ place, pif!
Enternities of thought over process,
render the impossiblity of it, 
paint clean over this.


Cor, Sun 3rd Feb 2001