The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Saturday, 31 December 2011

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Bill Me Later!

© Amby Christina by Ruela

Heard it through the storm.

Below Minimum
words cannot Feel,
I. myself sick,
tears Heard From Words,
eat me out,
the knees bend and cease to be
Words are just words,
Words... that wash out
‘do I feel good,’
but whatever I attempt to make ... breaks and collapses
my stomach turns
I am lost.
me apart from me
sing to me.
little bit of bicker, babble......
Distant from you, my monitor rumbled and shouted,
and spout
Fresh squeezed questions,
gears\tangledwires\ a?
words that fail/I'm popped,
The Storm
bubbles, Running processes:
Nervous system\Head Transfixed.
Am I fine?
Tend to\alter me\HiJackThisbrain\rechargeThisDesire.Excess ring out,
*end* Talk,turns my thoughts dirty,
mind wet
with soap.
I do not need to be pulled in
and chilled my thought Brain\plugin-container.Careless content input
\Meatbag not Perfect screws loose\
Thats me in the background. Not seen,
get under my skin,
then what...\IRoute\ the Virus\ roots in Me\IGrow\inthe\web work\Root through\my head\Glitch.
In realTime\Brainreflects/eyesmirror/eyes/reflects\me.
choke the frail words, peel my bones,
I rub my eyes,
tears ...

Friday, 9 December 2011