December Suntan Mask Poem by Selenaru Negrea

once again i've had the sensation of being in a cheap 1999 movie about the nearby 'apocalypse'... nights of sorrow were floating above me and the grassy knolls from the dark carshops. at Rainbow Mode's house: unsettling yellow and blue windows against pitch black walls.

instead of being attacked by meteor showers in sleep, we decided to rehearsal in a tall building where the agony would make us vanish more quickly.

we escaped from the building into a planet that seemed frozen, but we couldn't feel anything. i've seen a woman on a cliffedge near the sea. she was making suntan beneath the numb fingers of the two pale suns. she apparently wore nothing, but her face was a mask she was holding with one hand. i am really frustrated by the pale blue bits of ice that were floating on the transparent sea with ridiculous ripples imported from a computer game

(2 June 2008)