Double-faced men of the outer city sprawls walk amongst the plebs of urbania. Moulding and masking the scent of originality these men choose to co-exist in this world using the existence of another. Waiting for the other to crawl their way up from the obscure depths of poverty and free listings in the phone directory, they pounce at a time of high glee and popularity. Working beyond an improvement on their own lives never comes into the fore, the mere hint of which leaves them a shattered compost of dry twigs and loose pollen.
The originals have flocked to the greened and yellowed greens of the West Indies. Their poor facially structured counterparts have broken the shackles of double vision and now strut their substandard impurities across the pavements. To the uninformed and less aroused the images of which have caused a slight concern and possible hallucinations given that the cross networking odours have made breathing in that much harder.
Encounters with these minions of complexity serve no merit and are worth as much as their lives to which they wish not to hold.
Written on Friday, 25 April 2003