A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals to discovery.

Springs and Magnets

They come from grey concrete buildings, fibro dwellings
faded pastel suburban nightmare landscapes varnished
viciously with repressed energy that explodes at night.
The night is like any other, the kids move slowly yet
surely creeping across crumbling bridges from afar
(and not-so-far), nervous impatience growing steadily.
The room is a pulsating beat spewing forth blue veils,
whispering secrets as eyes adjust to the flickering lights.
Fascinating flesh tones shifting at an unfamiliar speed-
slow motion flashes interfused within the experience.
Through the smoke and the pounding ultra bass
ambience, they twist cool, yet somehow impersonal.