p o r e =  process of revolution electronica
listening to the songs, drift in and out like waves, rolling ashore in a sea of static. nothing works here anymore. this includes me. singing the song of the broken toys. lost among the lost boys. somewhere in here is me. and i think, thats nice. everyday is the same here. memory flickers across the wall under the coat of smoke film. the revolution has begun. and i will watch it later. when my television works again. i will see it all. the whole technicolour world.
but for now, its dust and dirty clothes and stale cigarette smoke. its empty cupboards and sleepless nights of anticipation. bad dreams. and songs that stumble tumble down the airwaves and splatter around the floor. bits here and there sticking to my bare feet. and then i hear it. faintly. the signal. i push off the blankets and sit up. i stand up and climb up on my couch and reach.  i press my upturned palms against the ceiling and try to receive. to translate. transmutate.
im here. here i am. i am waiting for the revolution electronica. take me now. i have been waiting so long. and i fear i can not wait much longer. i begin to sing the song of the satelittes. star light, star bright, take me home first tonight.