Water bottle.

Incinerated plastic.
Fumes.
You are too lazy to cover your mouth.
Take a deep breath and suck it in.
an acrid lung full.
Take it deep and hold it there.
Punishing headache.
Screw your eyes tight.
Press the palms of your hands against your eyelid until you see shapes.
See the leftovers of ragged nests of ragged carrion birds in dark winter trees.
See the broken walls of buildings.
See the moon through a broken window.
The tide which poisons the shore.
The rhythmic step of clockwork soldiers.
Spider's thin legs. Fragile, vulnerable.
Mould on the inside of the window.
Don't turn your back.
Stay alert.
Don't turn your back.
See the fading, bleaching sun destroying colour.
Drop a stone in a well.
Hear the wet echo and feel the cold of the earth.
Here is burning plastic.
Black smoke choking.

Cross country.

Who are we?
The land we no longer work?
The things we no longer make?

The shadows of buildings decaying or destroyed?
The people we don't speak too?
The songs we no longer sing?

Are we the corrugated box people?
Are we multiplex man?
Are we one?

Are we one and the same?

Over.

The weight is gone.
Surface tension disapated
A punctured balloon
A windless sail
A flag without a country
A soldier without a war.
Drilled to walk, up the parade ground, down the parade ground.
About turn and again.