Rhydyfelin

[stevenhitchins]

[stevenhitchins]

i gotta go far as hell two buses. u like my cat yeah ur cats fat and havent got a wonky tail and doesnt miaow. be paddling like fuck going i cant even swim be fucked all green fucking moss floating everywhere nah fuck this. then as soon as the police come fucking behave. soon as u get out of the car its dirty fingernails. mam chuck me the frying pan fucking dips his head in. oh butt ive seen rhys thomas do that funniest thing ive ever seen in my life. my lips were so dry they were sticking to the bong. i was fucking boiling. out of nowhere just started sweating. took my hoodie off took my tshirt off i was just sitting there have a little breather like. ur hairs fucked. fags are ridiculous as fuck.

[stevenhitchins]

savers crepe sack crinkles down road

[stevenhitchins]

we drive up dyffryn road past new super fry chinese takeaway past tennyson close shelley walk poets close up the narrow farmtrack past glyntaf and hendre. park in oak wooded hollow. stream valley. nook of crooked trunks. oak leaf mulch slopes. dry stone wall fins hilltop stegosaur. sheep bumbles. wool wisps snagged in gorse. spiny thickets. gilfach windmills in distance. telegraph posts. marsh grass clumps. tussocks. moss-bumpy grass. black-sodden sheep. wet gravel path. bog mosses. sodden hay. hairy blonde silage. black and white fox leathers. scrambler bikes. pints of beer. stand by wodden picnic tables. outside rose and crown. sunday lunch conservatory. pink and white balloons. white van inching along curve of eglwysilan ridge. long spikes spray. tuft rushes. stream brook gulping over combed flat grass. swampbrush. drystone maze. buzzard mews echo in sun haze. silhouette wheels behind stone-rimmed horizon. rigid-winged. blade-stiff. straining on her ladybird reins lucy kicks her spotted pink wellies through dunes of black round sheep droppings.

[stevenhitchins]

recycling bags of polystyrene iceberged on patio

[stevenhitchins]

but the thing is tho i think when ur drunk u cant taste anything the first couple of ones then all of a sudden i was that drunk my lips were fucking numb. i cant believe it got cancelled tho. youll afto come out with us. funfair in fucking ponty. and i was like no. if ur funny phonecalls funny text messages. there was a stagecoach right behind us. uh I need to get two packets of. ur father charges u petrol my mother doesnt. does it still work. press that.

[stevenhitchins]

Bang bang my baby shot me down.

Dry fuzz of bracken banking.

Crinkle cartons of leaves.

Tyres burr.

Kinked birches.

I was five and he was six.

We rode on horses made of sticks.

He wore black and i wore white.

Indigo grey lakes of cloud stretch.

My baby shot me down.

Tape tangled in branches.

Lampposts flamingo above trees.

Bang bang he shot me down.

Bang bang i hit the ground.

Gazing through pylon spokes.

My baby shot me down.

[stevenhitchins]

Jackdaws sail through the blue like crisp packets on a river tonight.

If i lose myself tonight.

It'll be by your side.

If i lose myself tonight.

Wings spring like paper toys.

If i lose myself tonight.

Fossilised trees.

Calcified forest on roadside.

You can feel the light start to tremble.

Dry webbing of branches.

You can see your life out the window tonight.

If i lose myself tonight.

It'll be by your side.

Aldi lorry.

Roadside LEDs 17:43.

If i lose myself tonight.

Faint headlights track through grey.

Pylons tug their wires.

[stevenhitchins]

My love and my touch up above praise to the one that i love.

'For Sale' felt-tipped on neon paper taped to car window.

Roundabout map diagram squid-splayed.

My love and my touch.

Arrows point the way painted white on road.

Brakelights fray weave of red light.

Praise to the one that i love.

Green traffic lights against baby-blue evening.

Milk-blue shallows.

My love and my touch up above praise to the one that i love.

[stevenhitchins]

Headlights fold over curbstone. Man in tracksuit opens front door. Bulbs housed in PVC Victoriana. Drains boxed between cones. Streetlights glow peach. Allotment greenhouses dark headlights in glass. Streetlights bead along car metalwork. Down the channel of parked cars. Aluminium canyon. Ahead the dense forest of lights. Amber glowsticks atop long thin poles. Cars ramping it up A470. Silent red rearlights lift above town's orange scatter. Woman in joggers and hoodie in underpass. Tesco truck 'Freshly Clicked' hazard lights flashing parked on pavement. Roundabout sign like a vice or a paperclip. Tarmac-laying Cemex tank. Crescent moon hammocked in space. Gravelly speedbump. 20 painted in white circle on road. Grit crinkles under tyres. Lampbeams flare down pink. Glass glints in tyre-track sand. Rubble heap two traffic cones pallets stacked against cement sack. 'Room to let' biroed on ripped paper sellotaped to window behind red venetians.

[stevenhitchins]

[stevenhitchins]

fuzzy black spires of conifers.

and with all your magic i disappear from view.

spiny graphite mast.

still i call it magic.

white metal windmills turn.

and i dont and i dont and i dont and i dont no i dont its true.

wood pallet yard.

and when we fall we fall so far we call it magic.

yellow naked trees.

and we call it true.

steel palisades along rust-girder railway.

diffuse contrail arc over hillside.

and if you were to ask me.

leaf shadows shift on 30 mile-an-hour sign.

still believe in magic.

asda 24 hrs sign.

yes i do.

click & collect. george.

of course i do.

rusty buddleia sprouting.

[stevenhitchins]

you cant keep that one happy. oh get that when u go back anyway. i wanna try that for a change but like. dyou know what i like as well right. can smell dog like. proper wet smell. do me a favour. do you know how hard this is to do. dont! shouldve held it in. dont-ah! that is buzzing. have you seen it. everytime they ask about my age i say sixteen. i got away with it the other week. you can pay for my food friday. as long as its something cheap as fuck. what does it mean. what does it mean. you were steaming so he licked your arsehole oh right. ive done that a couple of times. ive had some inexperienced people. yeah but some people will be like they wont say anything. just pop it right up there. its never happened to me. its just the feeling that i get.

[stevenhitchins]

fleece perm central reservation handbag.

if you listen close you can hear him cry.

oh lord heaven knows we belong way down below

oh lord heaven knows we belong way down below way down below.

sunlit terrace hillside.

judys in the front seat picking up trash

living on the dole gotta make that cash.

wont be pretty wont be grey red blocks singing

oh lord heaven knows set into green fields and brown.

singing oh lord tell us so we belong way down below.

window films of sunglare way down below way down below.

gravel glued to sides of houses pink and white chippings.

[stevenhitchins]

thin ripples frill over pebble-smooth boulders. bloodbrown fern-sticks a bed of nails between river and rails. snapped bamboo.

[stevenhitchins]

yawn fog. nose-tingly 8am. backlit grey wool scales treacle across sky. scrammed plexiglass glows. balance coccyx on steel bench-bar. metro pages lap in breeze pacing platform. stubble and gel. palm-cupped smartphone wired to head.

[stevenhitchins]