Sunday, 22 March 2015

Requiem for a Dove

When it wasn't men only in places where I look over my shoulder and no one's there. Just a hollow pillar sound gets to the ceiling and stays bleeding inside longer holding on as my hand meets it dry. People look but don't stop leave me alone with queer is the new freak. Voyeuristically record only my ancestral features and have you ever noticed how the portrait is an image of the model and artist combined. At the back is the aftermath of fire peeling greys and the pink of a bruise got boring. I guess it hurt before there's a sale of pay to suck my cock 5£. I wouldn't call this screaming it's art until I've stepped over then it's screaming. Left his jeans in there could be a bedroom magazines and a bottle of cider. Look harder at me when my soft black scarf covers my eyes twice and is tied. Weren't you cold no we never notice at the time do you. I am really enjoying this honest I am especially as I'm blind or na├»ve to the score cards. And how will I make a living like I could in the days when at nights sat up on the stage the floor was all men. Now I'm only a micro-step out of time stamped with fuck you I won't do what you tell me. I only had to slide down and see plug-art-sex-penetrate exactly how I remember the next act.

Three girls - two slightly dressed the third in a plain institutional white dress, nurse shoes and an anonymous mask. A tailor's dummy with play-time nipples stands next to her chair, she squeezes a false nipple now the other two are kissing and she holds up a score card. Everything gets scored. Now one is fisting the other being fisted and now the score is high and we clap and cheer. I wonder how often they do this act and if they swap roles. I guess you'd only know if you were there watching every night.

No honest I really do enjoy this it's only later I feel the cold prickly self-doubt of I won't ever do that again. And start thinking about what I'll do next if raw material ever runs out. In the other room I gave a name like church there's only a T-shirt my sounds come automatic as my boot toe searches for a motif. He didn't leave anything in the central room. I give my sounds space to finish and read instructions painted on the walls under young men pay to suck.    


I never forget I am naked

when everyone else

is dressed

to you I might be

an object

or did you make me

an object so you can


never forget this is



Friday, 6 March 2015

Map 71 - Blue Tapes

Lisa Jayne is one half of the word - sound band Map 71 with drummer/producer Andy Pyne.

You can listen to us on Blue Tapes

If you like this there's more on Map 71