people just want to go to the movies. blind pessimism alone. won’t keep us at home. we keep lining up to be disappointed. let down by our hollywood-annointed. another celluloid clunker. another ten bucks of bad art. another avalanche of junk. slips out like a fart. the cover of darkness won’t save us. we’re already sunk. the hush of the crowd. the injection of silicon. larger than life. and addictive in milligrams. seamless transitions from night into day. with all the happy endings we can take. whatever happened to the movies. not all those clear skinned luminaries. offering exercise therapies and new ways to improve our smile. in breathless sentences. they warn of the menaces. to our social order and drinking style. never satirised or criticised. or demonised enough. for the life they have sought. for their right wing conspiracies. and the absence of thought. no imagination. no sudden departures. and never enough protest marches. they stick to their script and collect their pay. and no-one complains that much. so i guess it’s OK. but somewhere beneath there’s turmoil. and it just eats away. and occasionally a bubble of truth escapes from the mire. their spring-loaded triple-crosses snap free of the glosses and extract a gasp from on high. to remind us it’s the little things. the mutant man-eating nasties. no bigger than a pin. that will get out. but they start from within. still they stumble along. ten minute celebrities. with no greater goal than bladder control. and a bottomless ability to smirk. and their mindless endorsements. a further reinforcement. for the rest of us going completely f#@king beserk.  ahhhhhhgggg.  and that’s why we just want to go to the movies. blind pessimism alone. won’t keep us at home. nine tenths of nothing and nothing much left to lose. doing something stupid could be what i choose. somebody make me an offer i can’t refuse.