i keep thinking about
Sophie Lancaster being
cruelly murdered for wearing
different clothing.
of the injustice of chav's
wearing tracksuit bottoms
having the audacity to set
themselves up as some kind
of fashion police.
lately i had a little taste of this
myself.
i'm walking and four skinheads
walk past me
"what are you wearing
that fucking hat for?!" they say.
it was hot but it's any
any excuse really.
i could have been recovering
from cancer and been a
skinhead in another way.
but no.
it was just a little taste of
the kindness of
strangers.
later you rush to cross
over the road trying
not to get hit by a car,
the car narrowly misses
you and the driver winds
down the window
to call you a prick.
apparently anger'd
by the fact that
he sped up to
hit you and narrowly
missed.
people will go out of
there way to fuck
with strangers.
difference will be attacked
and examined as though
its an absurd anomaly or
treated with indifference
or a smirk.
the muffled voices of
the group.
so much noise
and no distinct sound
to be heard.
so much noise and no
meaning.
the petty violence of
strangers and
the soul murder of
culture all seeking to
condense you into
a certain form.
society is like a prison
where all the prisoners
police and imprison
each other.
sometimes the inmates
kill each other,
so be careful what
you wear.
