The Hoarchive

Satire, freshly squeezed from Warwick Uni

The Hoar book, pictured on a white studio background.

The Ciphered Circle

Glistened heat throws through thin cloth film - shoulder to shoulder - around the ring cycle. Mouth racked, fizzing filling the foot of a gullet, A

The Ciphered Circle

Glistened heat throws through thin cloth film – shoulder to shoulder – around the ring cycle.

Mouth racked, fizzing filling the foot of a gullet,

A gullet, not mine – no individuals here,

All words a cipher, no utterance our own,

Deviate a line, tumble a trick, empty another glass.

The moist warmth of berries and bile fills the unitary nostril,

No individuals here,

Get off your phone! Not a call to being but a call from yourself, hang up your call.

No individuals here,

Strip, sing, slip from grace, but not alone.

Backslapping, get it up boy, join the fluid exchange, enter a stream,

No individuals here.

Let the ropes between us bind and blind,

Let reason be lost,

Crimes, cries, a thousand glasses smashed,

A thousand walls doused in holy urine,

A thousand furrowed brows on the exasperated faces of a thousand small time managers,

All for talk of tour, training, and subsidiary sexual adventure,

From a purple pissed up organic unity,

This is fraternity? I’ll take to the hills.