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It sums up the strange mood of our time when nothing really makes any coherent sense. We live with a constant vaudeville of contradictory stories that makes it impossible for any real opposition to emerge, because they can't counter it with a coherent narrative of their own. And it means that we as individuals become ever more powerless, unable to challenge anything because we live in a state of confusion and uncertainty
I'm in a big house, having big dreams
The next time I wake up there's blood on the bed
Didn't know it was time yet
Or is it not mine?
I feel old in this hotel
As if surprised to find I still have it in me
And yet so young
Unsure if from young or old
I dip my finger in it
Smells like warm winter
Then I feel the need to touch everything
Everything in this room
Like a dog I'm marking everything that belongs to no-one
Bringing it close to me, or life, or something
I have big dreams
And blood powers
My own art history
My combined failures

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Blood Bitch

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