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Callum Leckie

December 19, 2013

BANG!

BANG! by Callum Leckie

Obsessive Complications 8

I had dug a complicated system of tunnels in my mind – obsessions would pop up at unpredictable intervals like crazed Viet Cong -fixations with numerology – a ratatata of intrusive thoughts. A bleached rat of panic chewing through my synapse – pharmaceutical dissolved against the on slaughter. Now speed dreams lift life I straddle it free for a week tunnels filled-in another week a whisper starts. But I sense release. Strange that.The days are long drawn out. I beg for night to come sometimes.

Venus in PVC

Venus In PVC by Callum Leckie

The Woodlands

Hatched dens in moss, birch trees uprooted, willow white ink caps assumed as magic. The woodlands and the moors, a-joined a council estate ‘Racecourse’ a 60 year old experiment – Where I used to play as a kid. Flayed open fly skipped boxes of porn my first sexual experience…Beer cans, bottles for smashing – woodlice, spiders, climbing trees – used syringes – condoms, ripped tights webbing a disjointed fugue yet unknown. Butterflies. Birds.
I play ‘Predator’ alone, eight, making ladybird grave-yards with rose thorns – sadistic games processed. It could go up in flames, by absent-mindedly scratching a match. Purification process was viewed with interest.
Once two men appeared from nowhere black balaclavas sawn off shotguns. A moments stare, my first taste of terror. The woods turn grey, green and black.

MeasiesMeasies by Callum Leckie

 

The Room

The TV beams into there world, full today, muttering is immense. I sit and drink black coffee, thumbing a Roger Ebert 98 film guide my only source of entertainment there is an old man that catches my eye for his resemblance of Terry Pratchett he’s playing with himself. Another man talks in an endless stream of consciences to himself. I pick out pub, Jane Austin’s skull, his brother, his mother – I stop listening. My arm is a infectious festering balloon five stitches have come loose. Jeremy Kyle screams shit to the early risers me included in my blue pyjamas, I’m tempted to cover the screen in boiling hot coffee but don’t of course I return to bed.
I lie on the fireproof slab like mattress and stare at the white wall for nine hours.
Like Bodhidharma, in case meaning happens.

 

Callum Leckie is a self taught writer and artist, he is from the UK, and lives alone with his books somewhere in Manchester.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. December 21, 2013 9:44 am

    I work as soon as it gets dark and love the silence I work till dawn and then crawl into the sack away from the light/I love your images/What should I call them? Cartoons seems too lowbrow/

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