Plasters for Pixie Zombies

They're very green. Or maybe They're not. You can never quite tell with Them. They're not even really the undead either. In fact, I don't actually even know why They're called the pixie zombies anyway. I'm not imagining Them (and it's not the result of a combination of raisins, Stilton and mushrooms)- They're here and They're munching on my plums. In fact they rather like it there- in amongst the fruit. Who knows why? WHO doesn't disapprove either- apparently their saliva (if one can call it that) has nutritious properties (feeding you exactly what you lack).

I remember climbing into a black cab once. It was black and shiny and reflected the grimy filth of London sodium lamps in all their yellow wonder. The driver was female. She probably was the only one. Around me were endless streets, surrounded by endless grey, piss and chewing gum. They like chewing gum- They pick it up and make it glow. Most people can't see Them- they just see luminous gum and think they're hallucinating again (anything can be accredited to flashbacks). Somehow things were just slipping by- ideas running through my head, and vanishing, like the hazy shadows of modern buildings on the overheated pavements.

The one who finally approached me was different from the mass. Initially I thought the poor thing had lost its way, but its beautifully large mauve eyes glared at me, staring- lingering as if nothing could possibly break a sudden sense of connect I felt with it. Oddly, it was wasn't an it at all. I can't describe what it was, as the duality of sex simply ceases to exist in Their rationality. Their anatomy is irrelevant- the extent of Their alien sexuality (if it can be called that) is exactly what it sounds like - Alien.

It's never quite left my side since then. I see it everywhere- hanging on the ceiling in lectures on Jainism, swinging from London Plane to London Plane in photography, chasing squirrels in Gender. It's a cute little soul, but whether it relinquishes any of its loneliness in my company is another matter altogether. I do not pay it heed, yet it remains.

Do we thrive on following that which cannot concern us?