A Self-Portrait, Imperfect.

REMEMBER I WAS VAPOUR by Gary Numan


Sometimes Monkey operated as if He had Sight perfected - a three-dimensional construct that took into account His Choices, Actions and Consequences - so perfected, in fact, that to the untrained eye it might appear that He cheated but sometimes that self-same Monkey reeled through the Universe as if blinded, hobbled and drunken and, by God, if Monkey's name was not my own and the clutter around Us not our Life - Perfection, Chaos and All.

Our Cage. Just enough room for Monkey and me.

A Cage so perfect it could only have been made by someone with inside knowledge of the Creatures it held. The Ultimate Cheat whereby in the act of Cheating the Cheater is the one most Cheated. Monkey was the acknowledged and unchallenged Master of Cheaters. An Honor so dubious that it was coveted by Millions. An Irony so pointless that it screamed with the voice of crumbling chalk skipping across a chalkboard. Monkey wanted that scream to cling to Him like a shroud, precede Him like a stink and trail Him like a slime.

"Oh for a mighty Scream," Monkey muttered. I heard Him and, by God, if it wasn't my lips He moved.

By now, Monkey's Madness was a dread certainty. I had held my breath as it approached Us and exhaled only after it was too late to run. Monkey embraced it like a Lover. I tried, in vain, to shrink beyond It's clutches but to no avail.

"Our Madness," Monkey muttered and, by God, if it wasn't my mouth that curled around the words.

Monkey spooked at Shadows now and then - Spirits maybe - speaking softly or screaming Nothing? Hard to tell. They spooked Him nonetheless.

"Speak, oh Spirit, so's I can hear or shh! if it's Nothing you're shrieking," Monkey muttered and, by God, if it wasn't my tongue that danced behind His teeth.

My name, my mouth, my lips, my tongue and yet Our life - Monkey in third person - imperfected. Mine not me, the Song begins... I'd sing it but only Monkey knows the Words.