Béton Brut

Alasdair Dunn, Scott McLean of Falloch

Spectral lines all ranked up
On the cosmic bathroom countertop
Bloodshot eyes in a cracked mirror
In the silence of a throbbing city club and the void


When I couldn’t see the stars
I stopped dreaming of space
Always keep the beaten path
Always keep a straight face


This year’s galvanised me
But zinc’s a drab-as limbo as any
Trading one grey for another


The music of the spheres spun
In colours I had never dreamed of
I would be lustrous, I’d be rusting in lust
I would be wretched. I would be loved


Leaving home
Muscles knot my aching shoulder bones
Wash out my veins with the acetone
I wasn’t born in fear
There’s no self-loathing in my genes
But from when I could hear
I heard the hereditary; the poison of misogyny


An amateur wavering, thrust traversing
The tripwire of masculinity
Dance, hummingbird! Can you dance?
I had learned the steps before I could walk
I had learned silence before I could talk


Where are you, Orion?
Into what abyss goes your hunt?
To black depths I condemn ye
And raise up to the heavens new stars


Stare into that void all you like
It won’t meet your gaze
When you can’t see the stars
You stop dreaming of space

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