What We Do Is Public - Bent Shapes

I’ve just seen a face

I can’t forget the date and place

Rent and rending time/space

Those ubiquitous rules we chew up for the taste

We’re steeped in gloating

Fear, and self-loathing

Dressed up tough like sheep in wolves' clothing

Sleepless, bloated, goading no-ones

Proximity means less these days than who is near your heart

Plus, being close to people never got you very far

It’s nothing special

It’s nothing personal

All in all

You’re just another pic on my wall

I can’t relax

Want to attack

Every emoting slacker

With the business-end of fat brass tacks

Memory means less these days

Usurped by point of fact

Truth enough to preclude

User’s instincts to react

To something special

Something personal

The stultified have multiplied

And it is all your fault

Spend years and years

Convincing peers

That, though we’re imperfect

We are worth it, serviceable

At least have earned

Any shit they give about us

Memory means less these days

Than who is near your heart

Plus being close to people never got you very far

What we do is public!

Public!