Due Process
Haut de la Garenne on the telly again, not for Bergerac though this time. On my knees in front of the BBC, new carpet but and a crawling drooly infant. I felt my hand still gripped rock hard until I opened it and saw those bloody broken roots in my small palm, dark dampness and a violent face. They didn’t dig up much, just words scrawled in cellar, a concrete bath, ashes in an improvised fireplace and lots of teeth. Your not a bad boy. But you left more in the damp earth, concrete pits, lakes and spreadsheets we screamed in. Something still burning when those that ate the evidence are getting promoted and buying bigger houses. Something permanent and recoverable in the meticulously crafted torture tools, tarpaulins and fallacies of ritual abuse: the dark energy of the human sciences. Definitions: exclude human foot soup or marinating foetuses minorities and neighbours crushed under crosses and put through the mincer.