Following a failed experiment to expand my consciousness through the excessive use of overcaffeinated diet pills, celibacy, and zoning out to late night infomercials I sit on a milk crate at midnight intensely studying the colours in a slick of spilt petrol at an all night service station when three tequila stenched student types walked through flicking lighters and contemplating if Hitler had’ve won the war would he have rewritten the bible? The conversation captures my attention for a few seconds, definitely what the conclusion will be, but their purple voices fade thick slumping into black before it can be ascertained. Staring at the open windows in the brick palace across the tar river, how many are dirtying sheets whilst an army of nerve endings works hard to create a majestic palace in their heads? And all around stinking pollen is swolling and congesting sinuses in a final bid to take over the world. Somewhere else online internet lovers finally meet, disappointedly discovering that one is a drone bee and the other is a dead bird. Yes love is alive in heaven. My only hope is that somewhere on the outskirts of the city, a huge stringy winged fanged monster created by a food additive experiment gone wrong, waits and wishes, evolving thumbs so it can make its move. In an alley close by on top of thrown out mattresses, a group of pickpockets gets in a slow rusty butter knife fight with a group of chimney sweeps. Time to lock doors, and contemplate pulling out fans, nasal sprays, Spring.