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#51. THE FINAL SCREW stillness reigns
people have lived and will no doubt live again in this one time house
this elevated city apartment everything sullied and second hand grime in every line
a voids perimeter of surface traces
of no longer held occupations
with no relations to give them meaning
those abstract patches of coloured wall cladding those tiles that don’t make sense
without life present, and the emotion spent from dust is born
a sledge hammered new order
frozen framed in time
taken out of service for 2 of this years seasons whatever happened in these spaces
now ends with brutal punctuation
some ones choices, some ones vision
some ones home now done away no room for sentiment or care
bludgeon the walls
in one days time this place will be clear
all past pretensions disappear
remains hide in corners everywhere
leaner fabric amongst thickened choking air months of never ending struggle
battling against a buildings will
behind paper, walls, lie hidden voids
and nasty surprises beneath the floorboards when this work, this design is done and all feverish activity has ended and an unnatural quiet
in its wake will have duly descended when no-ones left
when all have gone
when furniture filled floors
await another unknown patron
there'll be nothing but emptiness in spades a constant sense of haunted rooms
and the construction circus moving on all is achieved, precise and brand new (‘cept the odd hole of a missing final screw)
this veneer of modernity has dismissed them that from beyond the grave appear to come
through the silence of some distant soundtrack just want to close the door and get out quick
look only forward and never glance back