How can I justify anything that I say without the mere justification of just wanting to say it? And by this very premise I cannot stand by my words as sentiments of wholeheartedness, more can I give in to their dispersion's as elements of discontent. To what effect do my words resound? Do they serve then just to act as the beat of my drum to which only I must march? Affected by all that has passed and filled with dread of what’s to come I cringe in my vanity of wanting to change a thing! The ‘hue and cry’ before they ‘sling me up’, “he did it” they shall cry, “he said it” they shall cry. What was the crime then? Was it one that had entered into this very world with my person, one that was so vaguely planted as a seed within my coloured dreams, a tantalizing glance of the “don’t be silly will you!” And a sickly shot of the ‘what the hell are you going on about?’ Far away from ‘the din of the machine that is perpetually thrusting’ just as it has always done, filled with a driving motion that cuts through the still of the night and clings on to the eddies of wind that blow the smoke from the end of my fag, away with any resolutions to change. Change is a word of the past when the ‘din of the machine that is perpetually thrusting’ takes over once again. A ‘how’s a bit of that then’ to off-balance the ‘din’ by way of means a recompense that was given to me by the attraction and wonderment that went with ‘that neon sign’ that pointed me over there. And so from that funfair, sharp stimulating noises, bellowed across the dewy trodden pathway, bellowed resoundingly, bellowed that laugh, that excitement, that ‘quick before its gone merriment’ belligerence, love, spite ‘in spite of it all’ the lardy ‘tucked in’ ‘war painted’ (she’s) that are clinging on to the ‘smoke filled’ ‘leather handed’ ‘make the world go round’ (he’s). ‘Twas not them though, no, for they were not the instillers of discontent, they were the darting brown in a stream, the ‘crayoned drawing of a child’ magnetised to the cold white metal of the master’s ‘food keep-freshener’. Twas the ‘lads on the gate’ them that brimmed with ‘the ways of the world’. “I’ll stop you here and just say to you, if it’s a good time you’re looking for then you've come to the right place” kind of attitude. ‘Quick but thick’ and with the gaudiness of ‘thick-sett moronic nothingness’ but all at once full of it, full of the world, and shouting to try and be overheard because of the ‘din of the machine that is perpetually thrusting just as it has always done.’ It is not too much for them though, it just unfortunately aids them in shouting over each other to try and be heard! “Take my money then lads” they quickly fold it into their dirty back pockets that are stained from the ‘machine’ wipe their hands on their comrades, and gesticulate to draw my eyes towards the ‘commemorate the jokes for the sake of jokes’ moment that just passed, “What do you want to abstract from me you pathetic miner?” was the thought but from my corner I did not ‘let out’ the ‘counter-joke featherweight with the glass jaw’, for it seemed like the vegan in the carnivore’s party, and it was because of this abstention humility was lost, just ‘a child’s helium filled balloon’ skyward bound and heart sunken, a sad dot on the horizon. I’m just at the gates though and all the fun seems to be ‘booming past me’ if I opened my mouth wide enough I might be able to ingest it. The funfair has leveled all the personalities that used to give me a friendly hello and even those that I know, who know of my existence but refuse to acknowledge it with any familiarity are lost in the evocative sound. Everyone is competing to have fun, they try hard, and the sharp dressers can be seen over the noise, those ‘of the cloth that is not dapper’ have to shout enthusiastically and 'vein-poppingly' over the ‘din of the you know what’, because their clothes do not speak volumes. Some hold on to claims of knowing how the ‘machine works’ but mostly no one cares in their ‘gaze of wonderment’ that half looks like a startled wood-pigeons who possesses those ‘skittish eyes in front of a farmers smoking gun’, lest lust become an ugly matter then, that that is unsaid, just uttered what thoughts were thinking! The funfair has lost its fun-part by now; It’s more of an unfunfair now! One that can’t be comprehended, I look at the people and they’re still incessantly laughing, disembodied sounds that sound like, well, well, well like ‘they never had an owner!’ Mimicry at the behest of some kind of wizardry! A throw back even, to a distant memory, but still they churn it out. I find no place in the lonely crowd, no! The crowd is not lonely though, for they find solace in the pretense of perpetual laughter, you know, to drown out the ‘the din of the machine that does the, you know what all the bleeding time!’ I could chip into the chirpiness and ‘chirp up!’ Resolutely there seems no viable attribution that I can cling on to; “How’s it going then, this is just what we need isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it ‘ad nausea ’ I had repeated the phrasing until I got the pitch ‘just right’, in between I swayed as a blurred world added to my confusion. My mouth dry from chattering that clanged empty sound, aching with the laughter that ensued. For one brief moment though the machine struggled, it seemed like it was on the brink of running out of fuel, the engine almost idling, but not quite, It was then and suddenly that I could hear my thoughts again! I just told them what I had realised all at once, and shoutedly blasted out “I just want what you all want” and with this dispersal of my thoughts came the onslaught! “What do you mean boy?” I tried to tell them, “I know a place where we could be happy, without us pretending to laugh all the time because of the noise of the machine, but it’s up to you!” They regarded me for a short while and then they all begged “please tell us where it is?” I was just about to tell them that they didn't have to go far to find it when……………………………………………………………………………………… ”The ‘lads on the gate’ had greased the machine to get her going again and the ‘din’ of the ‘you know what’ had drowned me out!