Cyrus Parker

Question 1

(1)
Two miners,
an argument
about
television
and us.

(2)
Heaven frozen
over. A
cartwheel over
the
garden wall.

(3)
The bulk of my
memories:
Glimpses of sun
amongst burns
on a triangle.

(4)
The bulk of yours,
Cyrus?
A flash of
a white wall,
two school

(5)
children
dancing
on the graves
of a nun
[a suicidal

(6)
father]
and a stone’s
throw from
blissful
boredom.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 1

my memories?
a blinding
white blanket
stained with inky tendrils,
watching, waiting,

hungry
for the souls
of those
foolish enough
to test
my kindness,
graciousness.

the false prophet had to
die,
for that is the price
of knocking
on my door.

but
the boys,
oh, those boys.
they too
had a
toll
to pay.

herein lies
the difference;
the priest
demanded
my power,
yet offered no sacrifice.

the boys
sought only to
borrow
what they needed,
yet offered a sacrifice:
all for one.

– Cyrus Parker

Question 2

Eventually the doctors will strangle the good from my throat.
There are seventeen moths living in the back of my mouth,
masking the holes in my gums, masking the holes in my gums.
We always go back to the same coffee shop to advocate
for the symptoms of a hiatus hernia. The coffee is volcanic
in ways Nescafe would describe as ‘good for young children.’
The acid reflux is worth two Americanos, and an espresso
on Sunday mornings, count the hours at night because
you’ll never get them back. Premium grocery lists don’t
shimmer like haikus, but every list is a series of traits I never
want to inherit. Do you read notes left on shop floors?
Scour the enemy’s predictions, the stock of cat food, the rise
in cheap cereals, the Blue Danube Waltz across the
cigarette stand. Burn the doctors, burn the caffeine, burn
the groceries, it will all be ok, it will all mask the holes.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 2

but isn’t that human nature, though?
to find comfort in the things that destroy us,
to mask the pain with something even more hideous,
so we might feel a little less ugly
when we look at ourselves in the mirror.
so we might feel a little less ugly
when they look in from the outside.
i’ve lived with masks, and without,
and while hiding behind a face that isn’t your own
makes it easier to get to sleep,
what lies underneath that façade
is what will haunt you in your nightmares.
i’ve been trying to take the mask off now and again,
to get to know the stranger that wears my face,
and i’ve learned how he copes:
he eats until knives carve their way out of his stomach
to fill a hunger that will never be satisfied
(the knives, they make more holes, but he knows just how to fill them);
he drinks until words spill out of his fingers
to fill a hole even hate dare not touch;
he fills notebooks with incomprehensible lines of poetry
because he need them to think he has his shit together more than he does;
he reads the notes on the shop floor
because he needs to know he has his shit together more than they do.
he too has moths in his throat, you see,
and he burns every single one of them
that dares leave a hole unfilled.

– Cyrus Parker

QUESTION 3

INT. SUBMARINE – NIGHT(MAYBE? OR DAY? EVENING?)

It’s a shit title, let’s be honest, and the set-up relies on an innate knowledge of living onboard a submarine and all the stuff that goes on with it. Everything is grey, the protaganist [might be the antagonist] used to make a joke that living onboard a submarine was just staring at fifty different shades of grey. This joke was before the book was even conceived. He can’t use that joke anymore – but please know there is no colour in a submarine, everything is grey. Fourty nine and a half different shades of grey.

……………………………..SONAR OPERATOR
………………I’ve just learnt what nihilartikel means.

……………………………..CHIEF
…………………life on board…

……………………………..SONAR OPERATOR
………………I think it means me, some broken entry on
………………a map that exists purely to confuse other
………………people. I’m not even worth some grid
………………co-ordinates.

The submarine begins to fall apart.

The submarine begins to fall apart.

The sub marine begins to fall apart.

……………………………..SONAR OPERATOR (CONT’D)
………………I think I’m falling apart.

……………………………..VOICEOVER
………………And it’s at this point crush depth forces
………………the hate into some innocent flesh. It’s
………………here that we the lines blur. Boundaries no
………………longer exist. Where does reality seep out?

……………………………..SONAR OPERATOR
………………Another fucking shade of grey.

The Sonar Operator has fallen apart.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 3

reality.
reality.
reality.

the sonar operator falls apart.
……………………i am nothing.
the submarine falls apart.
……………………i am nowhere.
the ocean falls apart.
……………………i am drowning.
the world falls apart.
……………………i have drowned.

forty-nine-and-a-half shades of grey blend
together. grey turns to white, white turns to black
and i am choking on the weight of it all.
i sink down to where the darkness is too dark
and my feet touch ground but i am weightless.
i scream and nothing comes out of my mouth
but i hear it in my head.

the sonar pings.

……..the universe falls apart.

nihilartikel.
nihilartikel.
nihilartikel

……………………everything is fake.

– Cyrus Parker

The poetic interview with Cyrus Parker is still in progress.