A nameless and powerless residue. An anthropological residue.
Half wits. Badly dressed. Unseemly. Who don’t even know enough to come out of the rain.
Shunned. Avoided.
Languid. Mildly retarded. Indigent. Self sabotaging. Half suicidal.
Repugnance: that’s what we inspire – or should inspire. Putting people off.
Undesirables. A residue of life: that’s what we are.
The socially passed over.
Comical … Ridiculous …
Truants – but endlessly so. Agelessly so.
Unconcerned, in some way.
Empty. Persisting, but pointlessly. Detached from all significance.
Awkward. Detached. Idly staring. Just looking on.
With poor enunciation. You can’t even make out what we say. We’re unpolished, haphazard. As though we hadn’t learnt to dress ourselves. To speak properly.
Self defeating. Mechanical.
A writing without authority. That leaves the senseless as the senseless. No literary result.
This is an experiment. This is a mistake – of course it is. We’re mistaken. We’ve gone down the wrong path.
Neglected people. That’s what we want to be. And deserve to be.
Just rumours. Superfluous. Unneeded.
People who just are. Sweet. In a numb actuality.
Vulgar – totally vulgar.
Stalled at the threshold. In some not yet …
Socially neglected Socially shunned. Socially dead, maybe
Senseless … remnants. That’s who we should be Like a dead language Like dead things.
The kingdom of God that’s forgotten it’s a kingdom of God. The people of Jesus who are not yet the people of Jesus. The proletariat that isn’t yet a proletariat.
The not net people. Of the not yet world. That’s where we live, isn’t it?
Speaking by rote. Like we’re rehearsing to speak.
Debility… stupidity. Self-degradation – that’s what we’re about. That’s what we want.
Childish. Foolish. Not concerned with what we should be concerned with.
Our kind aren’t strong. We’re the kind that goes to the wall. The ends up in mental institutions – if there were any left.
Unproductive. We can’t do anything. We’re good for – nothing.
We know what we are.
Squandering ourselves. Embarrassing everyone. Tiring those who feel obliged to defend us.
Pathetic. Sad cases. Never to be taken seriously. Good for nothings.
Dependent. Pathetically so.
We can’t defend ourselves. We barely exist. Barely … hold ourselves together.
Allowed to slip away from everything.
Weakness, incapacity, shyness, debility. That’s what we’re about.
Smiling at ourselves – always. Smiling at stupidity.
Our fault. What hasn’t been our fault?
We weren’t paying attention. We weren’t alert. Watchful.
Plebians.
We don’t know what else to do.
Work in Progress 