The act of corrupting or state of being corrupt.
The act of sitting on a bus, and teens beating on another teen. You do nothing. Like everyone else, you stare into the distance thinking about home, holidays, survival.
The act of sitting in an office not daring to express anything different because you know it won’t go down well, it won’t be understood, that you’ll be laughed off, shut in an echo.
Smoking can cause harm to you and others around you, yet all you really want to do is smoke non-stop so stick a pipe in my mouth and let me enjoy myself before I throttle something.
The act of learning, picking up a book, browsing the internet, while fucking in club toilets some pissed Boots manager.
The act of watching and listening to news and reading news, the wars that disappear in your head overnight, the diseases that were there ten minutes ago have now magically disappeared.
The act of character building and destroying, of friendship and the fear of saying no, of saying yes. Influencing the surroundings with nothing.
The act of creation and bathing they who look up with yourself.
The act of publishing for niche, for market, dead minds think alike. Comparing penises in the boys toilets.
The act of denial burning a hole in your heart.
The act of voting and listening to politicians squeezing their speeches into sweet fantasy bubbles.
The act of corrupting a lover. The act of putting a plan into action and holding up a piece of gold in the face of the man in the gutter.
The act of getting someone to have a word with someone to give someone something for someone else who will in turn offer you the chance of a lifetime.
The act of writing as a need, as a drug, while your wife and children play.