The inside of a hot air balloon in Wilrijk, Belgium. 14 jul 2001
Charlie's real
he's after me, riding air currents
like an angry balloon
floating, his long hair is parted in front
curled back at the sides, his mean brown eyes
stare at me, pin me to the wall
where i wriggle
i cannot free myself from charlie
he has no body and below his eyes his faceless face is
just a tight tissue of skin wrapped around jawbones
rounding in a fleshy chin
i cannot free myself from charlie
bodiless rider, he rides thunderbolts in Hell
with the Devil sings doom songs
through his mouthless face
then comes to me with bloody instructions
his favourite word is kill
but charlie is real, like you and me
someday i'm going to waste him
someday i'm going to kill him
someday i'm going to puncture him
with a knife
he'll shrivel like an airless balloon
but maybe charlie's going to kill me first
at night i lie with one eye open
i cannot free myself from charlie
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