wytchcroft: amelia (ear)
wytchcroft ([personal profile] wytchcroft) wrote2012-03-03 10:03 am

Goodnight Irene

(more rediscovered taped improv/loops from the amelia pieces -
this is one of a number of variants)

 

Goodnight Irene

Oh the cheek of it, the rude impertinence

To ask of me here

Demanding of me here

Who am I

Here?

Don’t give it out, no indication

Don’t write it down

  • I never had the inclination

Don’t scratch or mar

  • Who would dare deface

The past that’s somehow been misplaced

And lost inside the navigation

This four walled darkness

Could be taken for a room, an elevator

Could be taken for a walk, oh taken outside

Could be taken for

Someone else

Someone alive

Behind these walls

The watchful mutterings, whispering their urgency

From floor to floor

Behind these walls

A hotel’s what you make of it my dear

  • And so’s a prison

Where every faded corner has its story to tell

Every lobby, lift and stairwell

Spirals twisting up inside myself

Don’t question, never question

Me my memory

Myself

And I’m 

Vacated like an old seafront hotel

Abandoned and

  • Out of sorts

Out of season

The whitewash fading and the stucco barely sticking in place

This place

My face has never looked so strange to me

Over the years, it has belonged to so many

Leased out

  • At least I suppose that’s some attention

Loaned like a library book they were late to return

  • And just who are they my dear?
  • And who are you?

Just me, trust me, it’s only me

Myself and I - somebody

Someone else

Someone lost within these walls

Behind these walls

The watchful mutterings, whispering their urgency

Oh come inside and listen to the radio with me

Come and listen with me here

The radio is whispering

I can hear singing

Tell me what does it mean, goodnight Irene?

  • Isn’t it a good night Irene?

Within these walls and

  • Out of frame

Below the flesh, deep in the brain

Behind the skull beneath the skin

Stitched from leather and well weathered tarpaulin

Whale boned corsets and petticoat strings

  • And what of that?

A wrinkled stocking, not tight enough to ease

The weight, the ever present ache of my

Varicose vein

In a leg no longer fit for dancing

I’m wandering...

And there’s a certain art to the uncertain art of

Circumnavigation

Watch me voyage around my room

I’m island hopping

Moving through the humid spaces

The radio and its accusing silences.

........................................................

Now i don’t usually relish the sun

But you slipped in like a girl

Unnoticed

Bringing a soft sneakered smile to the world

Unnoticed

With a flick of your curls

Unnoticed

I could have held you in my arms unnoticed

Like a child - such a strange connection

Pulling me into the morning

Warming my skin and all that’s within

Now suddenly and subtly changed

A felt tipped kiss with the gift of time

All that was is gone and left behind

So now in the night

When you’re far from my sight

I’ll make a wish and hope you are well

And i’ll see you in the morning

Bright and early in the morning

Singing in the morning

Slipping in like a girl.


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