Fractured

Jack has grown accustomed to this strange corner of the universe,
 it’s a room with glaring fluorescent lights,
 but it's still difficult to see what you're doing.
Old stage lights balance precariously pointed at stacks of sawhorses. 
Jack's tools are gathered in buckets beneath them.
There is a door on each of the five unfinished walls.
The only one that isn't locked has lettering stenciled in white spray paint “Woolworths.”  
Massive metal ducts curve into the absurdly tall ceiling 
along with conduits, plumbing and the occasional stray data cable. 
This is the room in the mall, where all the seasonal decorations are kept. 
There’s no hallway to it, 
you wouldn't find it unless you started checking random doorways
in the back of the anchor stores. 
One of them used to be a Woolworths. 

There’s a giant throne at the dark end of the room.
 “Santa” is inscribed in the scrollwork,
 in case there was any doubt as to who was meant to sit there. 
Laundry bags full of costumes are piled up in the seat.
Fanciful fiberglass trees lay in loosely stacked sections. 
Cardboard candy canes, in various stages of disrepair 
litter the floor of a half scale manger scene.
A huge fiberglass leprechaun leans against the brightest wall, 
casting film noir shadows in every direction. 
There’s a big hole in the back of his head 
where the hoist attaches to move him around.
 It’s the very edge of the reality that is the shopping mall.
Architects, designers, and marketing experts run out of vision here.
Jack often calls it the backstage. 

Jack spends most of his day here,
doing jobs to big for the maintenance crew
and too small to warrant a call to a contractor.
It’s hot in the summer, 
he emerges in between projects into the general mall populous.
People just slightly over coiffed search for something to fill some unseen need. 
Jack finds it easy to avoid eye contact
 though he can feel the constant gaze.
It’s unusual in a shopping mall
for anyone to walk with a sense of purpose or direction.

Frenetic 3 27 24

Banana Beach Party

Bambino: One shop destroyed. Three heads split like overripe melons. One man wounded and one castrated. All in two hours. Just two hours I left you alone. Two hours.
Trinity: Well, you asked me to give you a hand.

Bristol Born And Dread,
Producer , Composer , Artist . I do not use AI to generate my music
This is my music please enjoy 

XXXX

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