Lararium

[Voice 1] [Male] 

[casually softly spoken] 

Eleven. Eleven. 

the sprocket is wrong
metric not imperial 
the engine is imperial
the body metric
and the toast burns
and the flush is intermittently 
reminding me to check my stools


And I think///
 shouldn't have got rid of landline
and I hear the toaster shout above the smoke alarm

I go into the garden to get away/////
their lack of integrity 
these ancient house gods 
who spy on my history of 
living within windows post tax
do they see themselves as faithful
fixtures and fittings, 
conceited with their lack of
self awareness

#####

Three, three, three, 

and they are
left to us by Romans and Queen Voadicia, Bodicca  perhaps//

who I last saw in my mind's eye, 
when standing on a hill above Brighton, 
reading graffiti/-
 scribbled on something plonked in the landscape 

Three, three, three, 

Hail Ceasar, watching over the conquered lost hearts. 

oh! - - - 
these small privacies I endure to give back that same feeling they the larariuim invoke in me. 

you hate me, and can't mind my bussiness ==

Two two two, 


I say to the faceless things in the cavities of brick work. 
so I make sure what they see invokes their hatred of me. 

If I have to feel it, so do you I say munching burnt bitter toast... 

a tourettes like need to get it out. 
Lararium, I wander did Bodicca hate you, or Ceaser even. 
And 
You made me angry, got me noticed by these walls and gates of tiny empires. 

and so I now do the same /--
And  to my detriment. 

but I say camping on the side where grass grows —---
your failure //
to follow your own 
pointless search of validation__

and
 I feel it's left you more broken than me (((... 
Lararium, poisened by your own voyerism. 

yes this house will cave, 
as the furies find cavities
without integrity
and torture teeth..... 

and I will follow the flush
and walk over hills==() 

like the drovers of yesterday 
and 
simply slip into the blood of Bodicca's 
unhappiness /
 and become a history of nothings 
as the Lararium () sip at media() stirring paint allready flung. 

And I scrape at the burnt toast 
And give the flush another try
And open a fridge door to get illuminated by friendliness--

taking advantage of loneliness
And like the  furies and their
unhealthy delicious snacks\\\\
poisening my liver. 

Like you.... 

[Repeat to fade] 

 Two two two two two two

Male and female  in  unison Spoken word in a casual soft spoken voice.
Celtic, ambient