Black Soil

'Good morning sunshine!'
(oh bloody robots) -
ticking, tocking,
my arm against plastic -
What a satisfying impact
What a CRACK
(not your skull - well
not this time I think
I may change my mind;
I'm spontaneous like that)
Where's my duvet gone? Ah
under the bed again,
I see
Resorting to that old hidey-hole
are you? Hell
even objects are cowards these days
Flop onto my bed and start
the electrical vibrations - they soothe me
Close my eyes and think
about black worlds and black soil and
black skies and black crayons
All bloody and black
(Bloody black hands)
The robots stole my heart but
I don't mind - I mean
it wasn't exactly a good one, was it? I
seem to remember it was
pretty damn dysfunctional,
actually
I'm better off without it so that
No one can touch me
Not with a ten foot pole,
not with cunning deceit or
words thrown at me like stones
designed to scar me from the inside
You don't seem to understand,
my mind is made of scars
my dear
so you see why it's
not my greatest fear
to be told that I am
uncaring and cold
Affectionless, a blight on the world
A hollow being
A shattered dream
A psychopath...

I'm not even sure what
these words mean -

they're all obscured
by the black.