Dream I walked with you along the Heath, as the sun was rising on New Year's Day. We ate alfresco and danced in the blossom on London fields. You led me down the embankment to watch the sun kiss the top of the chimney pots as it set. Your eyes consumed me as I searched your mind, lying in the blanket fort we'd created. We lived for a million years in my head, whilst all the while you lay next to me, dreaming of someone else.

Duvet Mountains. I wish I could climb these duvet mountains. Escape the wallpaper that threatens to blind me. Run free of the raindrops and sweat that salivate from the dirty city. I want to breath the clean air of us again, in the glaring sunlight of my rising mania. Instead I lie in wait at base camp, asphyxiated by the notion of my city as a spectre. A spectre haunting my shadow, clanging around behind me. I long for the day when corrupt capitalism stops eating my flesh and drinking my blood dry. When it stops trading in my unions and smashing my health. I dream of jumping from the fiscal cliff and plummeting onto the jagged rocks of endemic crisis perched so majestically below. The sky is falling down, but the louder I squawk, the quicker it comes, descending like a black curtain across the duvet mountains crippling my soul.

Methyldioxymethylamphetamine Words tumble from behind clenched teeth as orgasmic pulses flow from my feet, exacerbating ecstasy drenched eyes. Overloaded senses unleash torrents while nerve endings simultaneously constrict; emptying my stomach into our porcelain alter. The deity of a disillusioned youth. Up, up and away over the chimney tops of London. Smiling, twisting, turning, lips exploding over so many people;. Crowding my vision with fornications in bathrooms and clubs and tents. Spraying their seeds on walls and PVC. Sweat dripping terminally down, down, down. Exploring gradients of my body, praising the blocked hypothalamus. High above my city, the sprawling metropolis, controlled by another, new worlds, free worlds, bright worlds flirt with the palette of the bourgeois blur beneath. This is our proletariat plane out of here. Dropping bomb after bomb on unsuspecting nerve endings. The roman candles of an austerity nation; burn, burn, burning across the night sky. Seducing Ginsbergian angels amongst the tower blocks of Orwell's nightmare. Precariat ladders are meaningless to the receding gums of the socialist youth as bloody noses keep drip, drip, dripping into our porcelain alter. We are sacrifices to the deity of a disillusioned youth. Poets of circumstance. Reluctant revolutionairies. Starved, Hysterical, Naked. The angry fix to Moloch's broken means of production. Generationless generation frantically fossilising our existence before the clop, clop, clop of moloch's menaces drag us from our dialetical disguises and bloodied batons drip, drip, drip into the porcelain alter to the deity of a disillusioned youth.

Dubstep revolution Dread perches at the top of my stomach, waiting to drop. Like the filthiest wub wub wub, in the dirtiest warehouse in all the land it inevitably descends like a crushing weight. Sinews contract tighter and tighter as acid fizzles and snakes it’s way up my oesophagus. Icy fingers scratch through cartilage and tissue, rip, rip, ripping out my be-beating heart. Toxicity spreads through every capillary; A fare dodger on the rapid transport system to my brain. Clarity is shaken free, drifting off into the nothingness as breathless reaches out and clutches at my shell. I search deeper and deeper, through every crevice of my mind, trying to grasp at the tiniest morsel of hope. Of goodness. Of happiness. Of anything made of light. I travel fast and faster down the beam of darkness as my heart continues it’s be-beat be-be-be-beat, be-beat, be-be-be-beat. Colours flash and my skin salivates; pavlovian responses for the dubstep revolution. Wub wub wub, Be-beat. Be-be-be-beat. Muscles contract under their straining coat. Throwing off their natural tendencies of docility. Panic descends in boundless waves and still, providing the backdrop for it all. Wub Wub Wub. Be-beat. Be-be-be-beat. This is it. This is eternity. No more sunshine. No more summer’s days or snowy mornings. No more tears, smiles of laughter. This is it. Real. True. Here. The patch on the ceiling where the painted over woodchip stops and the plasterboard starts demands attention as the shadows of the trees creep up the walls and the wub wub wub, be-beat, be-be-be-beat gets ever louder. My liquid skin reaches out for a touch. To feel another beating heart. To know the air I’m gulping isn’t solely my own. To know I’m not here alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. I scream the words with increasing ferocity above the wub wub above the be-beat be-be-be-beat. Blood drips further down, down, down across the peripheries of my depleting vision. Images flash across my mind like a high speed digital picture frame. Montage on Montage of reality mixed with falsities. Mixed with the lies. The fronts. The nonsensical. The dreams. Mixed, mashed, bang, bang, bang, bang, faster and faster and faster and faster perpetually soundtracked by the wub wub wub and be-beat, be-be-be-beat of the dubstep revolution. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Thoughts leap and frolic with each other, fornicating above my own head; darting in and out, changing shape, size, theme, colour space. Sound bounces in on itself as the world collapses down, down, down lower and lower, crushingly, intoxicatingly inwards. Contract. Contract. Contract. Nowhere is safe from the Wub Wub Wub. Nowhere is safe from the be-beat, be-be-be-beat. Nowhere can be safe anymore. You take yourself with you wherever you go. Alone but with yourself. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Eyes shut, Kaladescopic view of orchestras bouncing, cheek to cheek, round and round, furrowing my brow for me. Trumpets blast, blast, blast louder and louder in a defeaning rucus and forever I shall be alone, blind, deaf, struggling for breath. Struggling for death. Alone but for the wub wub wub. Alone but for the be-beat, be-be-be-beat of my racing heart. Of the dubstep revolution. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. Wub. Wub. Wub. Be-Beat. Be-Be-Be-Beat. Again it comes. Wave after wave after wave after wave. The world is spinning away without me. Left in space. Hurtling faster and faster, my own reflection distorted by the ripples from the boat. The boat I rocked. The boat I tipped. The boat I sank with the wub wub wub and the be-beat be-be-be-beat of the dubstep revolution.