Welcome to my journal. Here find stories and poetry, posts about my life and wanderings, and musings about the environment and mental health. 

I wish you well on your own journey.

Nick Crutchley

​Categories

Everything rendered just-in-time
Reality wrought by brains insane
Advertising Epoch—cornflakes abound
When a cornflake falls, does it make a sound?
 
Take these pills, son, and the reality we teach
Take these pills, girl, square peg in round hole
Open your heart so we can close it down
You are the cornflake, we are the sound

I escaped the city as a thief
Armed with wit and guile
Only to steal no peace of mind
As barefoot I ran 

​Holograms paint sex in vivid light. Atop skyscrapers, heartthrobs, either silky smooth or rugged, sell watches, aftershave and cosmetic implants. Pouting supermodels jut from buildings like gargoyles, and aerial drones project hunky gods and curvaceous goddesses into the sky. Sex empowers women, we pretend, while making men drooling dogs. And men are dogs, salivating for bitches in heat. Wherever they look breasts protrude and parted lips offer a silent promise. No wonder they merge with Psychnet porn: their wives cannot live up to the dream we force-feed them.

​She’s lead
Transmuted into gold through love
Our heart
Bound deep but forever apart
Our loneliness echoes in each other’s soul
Yet we never speak, and angels weep

Image by Comfreak

​Sea crashes plastic
Fish mercury fed
Temperature taken
Gaia infected
Infested!
Humankind spreads

Mandy stares at the toxic sky. Nearby, a boy picks his way through robot, android and cyborg junk. As she lies naked and half-buried in the undulating ocean of alloys and plastic and human bones, where cheap but expensive to recycle machines and people are sent, she remains silent, motionless, expressionless. Perhaps the child will find something else of value before reaching her, and scavenge it instead?