Christmas Shopping [W.I.P Ver.1]

I turn my head to the tidal waves in the ceiling
I play a game of Dig Dug with the pipes
With sprites that just aren’t there in the mortal plane
Sunglasses toting tennis balls armed with 45’s
Firing lemons at the purple ball clan
I think it says something about your psyche
If you lose in you’re fictional arcade game
That’s pre-determined in your own head
Is it a sign of my own lack of confidence
To carry out the convictions in my life
Do I just assume I will fail in any task I take on?
Or is it a statement that try as I might
I cannot overcome the will of the masses?
And actually… Why have I put myself in a situation
Where I would even think about this tat?

Picture if you DARE a decaying charity shop
Wrestling for dominance in between the temptress
Of the stench of fresh ginger bread coming out the over
And the harmony of the latest electronic fairytales
Forced to be ensnared as a spectator
Bound to a cm ledge by the window
That’s like a blade digging right into the snug of my erase cheek
It’s the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive in this limbo
As I watch my betrothed repeat another contradiction

“I thought you said you wanted plaid clothes?”
“Yeah but this particular number has a thicker collar
Which of course recontextualizes the entire thing
Changing it’s status in the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view”

I wish someone would recontextualize me
Changing my status from the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view
And by that I mean punch me in the face, slit my throat,
And burn the corpse via a holy ritual
So that even my ghost doesn’t have to endure this shopping spree any more

“We have many factors to consider young patron
If I were to make a transaction of funds
For which context sensitive scenarios
It would be appropriate to utilize the piece I have in front of me
But considering the possibility that next time at Jan’s
There could be a recreation of the seven plagues of Moses
Right in the middle of shropshire! COULD HAPPEN!
Then if that where to occur it would blend with the colour of the shoes
Unlike if I wore the same ones in Blue that I have at home”

I would moan, but I can’t say I was any better
Switching back and forth in the record store
Between the Record Store day 2012 exclusive single
With the version of the obscure B-side that came with Frosties boxes
That’s 12.4 seconds longer with a slightly different flute
Or the other super rare vinyl with the outtakes
Of hit 2013 radio single, which is just the singer humming the baseline
Clearly both treasures would come into my possession
But with a agonizing week long wait in between
A 40 minute session of deciding was very warranted
It’d of been 45 but I do have them both on mp3 so it’s fine
…I feel it was just, why did my companion look so annoyed?

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

0 – The Fool (Draft 2)

Like a cup of a half filled luke-warm tea
Left to freeze, at the mercy of a breeze in a picture perfect winters setting
I am slowly losing the properties linked to my overall purpose
But it’s of no fault of a good for nothing tenant
Who’s jolted the mug from it’s coaster in the living room
And relocated behind the curtains of the study
But a day dreaming priss, too meek to shift his glacier stained feet
Left to drink the pisswater that is his cooled down tea

It’s an easy routine to play out on long weekdays
It’s the upbringing, the unemployment, It’s the undesirables
It’s the crippling depression holding the door shut
Metaphorically, theoretically, possibly, Definitely!
As you chuck another Chicago Town box across the room
But parentheticaly, you know none of that turned on the telly
And made you watch that Man Vs Food marathon
But oh, it was such an easy routine to fall back on
A routine well due for another run around
And after the tax on your nerves the week has sprung on you!

Your groans don’t bounce off much in an empty room
Nothing that could recontextualized the vibrations you sent out
Mush up what you insinuated, and lather up what they inferred
And send it back your way on the silver spoon express
Making sure to seal away the output of groans
Catching all the little things you don’t wanna hear on the bib
Until you’re full and numb and empty of any debilitation
The worst way to debilitate yourself in the first place

Poor wounded dippy soldier
There’s no need to cover the spoon marks on your skull
Poor-or, idioms, sympathetic, congratulated!
A lovely assortment of flavours and spices
To smear around your perception
Dulling and sweetening the few senses left functioning
To make your ingrained into the leather a fantastic experience
Watch the hours fly away like dance recitals and funerals
Turning even the slow deterioration of your lobs
Such as the Wright Show into something vaguely enjoyable

It’s a comfortable thing to rest on, puffy fluffly reassurance
It IS a comfortable thing, yes! Well done
But the floorboards are far more triumphant
I’m sick of the soft creamy taste of easy living
I miss the salt and the spit running from my face
As I bulldoze my heel into the stage at the cafe
Screeching to rise above the idle chatter,
They should’ve all enacting basic human interactions for you
The shrugs, disinterested looks, the bloodbath for relevancy
I mean the rudeness; THE GALL!
Inhaling and exhaling as a means to communicate aloud!
The kind of words I rely to you people now

Don’t let the nostalgic dreams of angry teens suede you
The ways I had to remind myself, I was alive where abhorrent
The tightening of the chocker, the fists behind your door
A reminder you could fuck up someone’s day
The dignified exits, parallel to the pining returns
A reminder you where something to objectify
Fuck that, I’m not a tool in anyone’s narrative
I’m something your damn near mortified to see lost
I’ll take that notion of shining like the brightest star
And melt all your faces off with all 27 million degrees of it

Now everything is changing
No footholding, No excuses, No handholding
No spare tenner for Pizza Hut
Just 65,825 ways to go about the plains before me
With an extra 154,529 methods of tripping it up
On the concrete, not like the turf from before
I guess I should face it all with a smirk
And get on with it

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

The Lucky Mallet

Little kids can’t help be to lay in bed at night
And dream about getting their mits on the Lucky Mallet
After just one little bop on top of their heads
They’ll burst forth to an elevation like they’ve never imagined

“For now I’ll just keep you under the sheets Mr.Mallet
Getting giddy under the golden glow
Counting the days down like Christmas till I can bust you out
Then every inch will be my playground
The coffee, The smoke sticks, The fancy clothes
The stacks of gore digitized onto little CDs
Finally they’ll have to listen to what I say
I can’t wait for the ol’ tap tap tap”

But what a depressing little scenario to imagine
That given if this fictitious object came into fruition
They would bop bop bop without a moments hesitation
It just shows that from their little eyes
All the days out with the family down the beach
All the make believe games down the local wood
All the electronic art that’s been passed down as gifts
Doesn’t mean a damn thing to them

“They hold back features on a time-based-unlock
Not even giving me the courtesy of a synopsis
Just to get a few more years on the stall
The hours of experience they’ve earned on earth
Pushing trolleys and calling Sandra a bitch in the breakroom
The prefect justification to talk me down to a hush
Well when I get big I’m gonna show them all
With a bop on the ol’ noggin I’ll shut them up”

Could it be in an effort to glorify our actions
The 4 weeks grind to get the funds
To gather dime a dozen technology and architecture
That beautiful way we lie to ourselves
We’ve altered their viewpoints too?
Despite the fact that if it were any of us
And we got our hands on the Lucky Mallet
We’d bop bop bop and go back, without hesitation

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

Theivin’

I still remember the first job we ever did together
It was smack dap in the middle of May

We were gorging on the successes
Of telling our employers cleverly fabricated fables
Which told tales of the valiant bout of our immune systems
Succumbing to the intent of the flu invaders

We stopped by the local pub to relive the true illness
One that has taken captive of our warmth and affection
A 9 to 5 shift at the local call centre just to get by

The look of boredom on your face cut right through me
My promises of a 3-star Chinese takeaway
As a cuisine to the début of the new series of Big Brother
No longer lights any passion inside of you
As if possessed by your intent I got up from my stool
And grabbed a box of crisps from behind the bar and gave you a wink

The clang of the bells run through my spine
It brings my hairs to a rigid salute
It gives me shivers, charging every joint in my body
And a grin to my face, the first one I’ve felt in ages
As we dash to the nearest alleyway for refuge
Illuminated by the red and blue

It was never about the heist, It was never about the loot
It was that thrill of getting away with you
Slamming the front door behind us, so hard the frames shook
Slumping down the other end like the sweat on our brows
Pumping more oxygen through our bodies in a single day
Then we ever have in a year of back to back TV nights in
Eating the monster munch we stole from The Goat and Boot
Somehow made the X-factor finals more tolerable that night

And now here we are years later, sitting on Ikea summer deals
Keeping our obedient eyes on ITV around half 5
We might as well be dead as flies take hostage in our mouths
Oh hubby can’t it be as it was before?
The thrill of dodging a 3 month sentence
While toting a basket of paninis we won’t even eat

I hear your pleas loud and clear
As we fade away into the leather of our seats
So the next time we went on our monthly trail
A silent 20 minute torture down to the big Tescos
I’ll grab a box containing latest Furbbie toy from the shelf
And I’ll throw a wink your way to confirm your suspicions
And you’ll start to vibrate up and down with excitement
As we both start heading towards the door

I wouldn’t take a penny without you there
I wouldn’t scrump a crumb If your not around
It’s the only thing we had in common
It’s the only way to stop feeling so sullen

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

Lolita

Melting in the claustrophobic household heat,
dripping between sanity and the sickness
of a man salivating over scuffed knees.
Middle aged monotone drawls bounce
around the house enthusiastically
piercing my brain and blowing them in.
Sagged, wrinkling, shiny, plucked;
ravaged by sun and smoke and
the constant comparison to your dolly girl.
I push down my disgust and force affection,
with great effort, just to stay near her.
Her name bounces down my tongue,
silently, over and over until I can forget
you’re there; as you say:

“Oh, honey, take me away from here,
and her. The fading decor of my
fading life needs revamping;
as I blend in with the gaudy wallpaper.
She can hide behind heart shaped
glasses but I see the way she looks
at you. Her smooth innocence slips
through your fingers as she stands
4 foot ten inches in her slip on’s.
But, my love, if you just lie with me
then we can live the suburban dream.”

I’m scratching at my skin and inspecting
the bits of me under my nails; if the
definition of insanity is doing things
over and over and expecting different
results then I’ve fallen into insanity
for you, mon amour. The woman tries
to pull you away from me but you remain;
light of my life, fire of my loins and the
sequel to my young love. When she
died, I sought a replica and you are
her doppelganger. Come into me
love, struggle out of her clutches
and into my arms. I always imagine
you’d say:

“Take me away from the monotony
of not feeling special; I need to
stretch my lithe limbs and curl them
around your neck. Drive the car
down the highway, blow dust in
my face and stow me away in a
sleazy motel. I won’t ever get
bored of these games we play;
I don’t know the rules but, please,
show me. I’m already broken,
what damage could you do?”

I’m melting,
stagnating,
wanting,
waiting.
It was love at first sight,
at last sight,
at ever and ever sight.
Most of the universe
is made of taboos and
inevitability.

And the rest is rust and stardust.

As performed by Domestic

– Francesniff

An Innocent Enquiry

168 hours feels just like a few minutes
Spent staring at the hieroglyphics on a plastered wall
Laying with the company of plates of unfinished dinners
Tea stains on the bed, sauce stains on my shirts
Seeing the opportunity to cleanse their karma
People came and went and recited lines
From a prepared scripted emulating admiration
That was never there back when the woman took in air

I was still clutching my hands to that old DS
Bruising of the D-Pad etched into my fingers
Still on the same save file as I was that week
I never averted my eyes from the display
I couldn’t bare the images of them carrying you out
To be scarred into my mind every time I look at the stairs
I couldn’t bare the thought of acknowledging this
As the world outside this screen, with the way things are

They wanted me to come back to the world of outside
But what wonders could possibly be out there now?
I hear the moans of the spoilt lobe stretched army
Caressing the creases of a spare 10 pound note
When the anniversaries of their mothers birth rolled around
They don’t know what it is they really have

I hear boring boys prepared to put there lives on the line
All for the vine, for the retweet, for the reblog
They want to make there families feel how I feel now
They don’t know what it is they’re really doing
I hear the cries of distressed souls bleeding from their hearts
Playing roulette with the choice of life or the choice of death
The kinds of choices people have taken out of their cold hands
They don’t know what it is they’re throwing away

Even when you came back to class
We couldn’t help but notice an absence
What happened to the boy we used to know?
Who was this corpse that now carries your name?
We asked why it was you never spoke anymore
We wondered why you weren’t as funny as you used to be
You couldn’t even muster the will to crack a smile
Let alone crack a joke

Only the few of us that had the nerve to gossip knew
While collecting scraps of the article you left behind
Oh we didn’t know what we were saying to you
What could we say to a boy like you?
You carried yourself between the corridors
Like you were being carried by the breeze
Your body may have been alongside us
But I don’t think you were ever really there

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

Distrust

“Your not as good looking as what I’d usually go for
But tonight’s your lucky night girl”

And with that civilization has come to it’s knees
As I was foolishly led to the lions den
With promises of scrapbook fillings
And maybe a net profit of companionship
Maybe there was a chance
Before the machines had gotten their eyes on me

“Hey bae I’m only messing around
There’s no need to be so serious
No one ever went to jail for touching a thigh right?
So just tell us your name?”

A gaze like a laser sight
A Domineering mechanical contraption
Made to keep girls like me under surveillance
Every breach of contact like a claw severing the flesh
I can hear the tape recording repeating in your mind
“She’s so beautiful, so succulent, so suggestible
She can’t exit until I’ve had my feast
She can’t exist if not for this moment”

“Come on darling you can’t leave yet
Drink that Bacardi Breezer I got ya’
Who ever says no to a dance?
Just let go have some fun”

Oh god they’ve made a statement with the architecture
All the lights, the screens, the luminescent
It’s insight to what’s to come, a wasteland of flicking neon
To shine the light of what’s left of our humanity
Daddy’s gotta have his meal tonight
He can’t stop hunting until a catch is between his teeth
We can debate paranoia and delusion till the day break
But the danger is real “Someone get me the fuck out of here!”

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Only The Obsolete Clutch

The news cut through the deepest part of me
Nights and nights spend hand in hand amidst the clean slate
Putting together our little plans and steps to glory
Reduced to plastic knifes struck in the dragons knees, in one sentence
Oh baby I couldn’t imagine spending my time without you
Buying bread knowing I’m not making you toast just seems pointless
While you rise to the next league in human evolution in another land
Looking at me in my second hand leather jacket fiddling with the pennies
Night after night you’ll forget our curbside midsummer debates
Putting the world to rights, and etching my heart in blood on the concrete
By comparison my sonnets will be reduced to a Daily Star article
My kisses will feel sliver, their greetings will feel like gold
I guess I’ll lay the final right now, may our love not end in a bang
But a whimper of the echo’s of unfulfilled promises and sweet nothings

If you feel you cannot merit your worth to me
In the midst of piles of golden spoils
Smearing my crown with the blood under my fingernails
As I stroke it from atop a platinum ladder
The that one’s all on you my dear
Kisses are timeless and sonnets scar the hippocampus
If your insecurity places a brace on your tongue
And your pride forces sorrow when you should feel joy
Then let me shed your remnants from my skin
As I take off to claims elements unknown as my own

To be preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0