I got drunk on ridiculously expensive wine last night. I stole Beef Carpaccio from my neighbours plate. I told the waiters they were beautiful, then made out in the toilets. I feel wildly dark in my mind. Hopelessly wild in my heart. Darkly hopeless in my soul. And lost. Darkly hopeless and lost.

The coin is spinning...
Where do I land?
This one has many faces.
There's the side of sleep forever and wake only to read books, write, take photographs of the abyss you fumble through, eat homecooked stews and skittles and never talk to anyone ever again.
Or get out and fuck through a myriad of boys-men while getting trashed at the bar on anything they wish to offer your thirsty throat.
You could pull your trembling chin up for gods sakes and get behind the wheel. Buy a van and deck it out with comic books and soft things in the back to fall asleep in each time it rains.
Or churn on the money machine and get the fuck out of here to immerse yourself in a world where humans can feel of interest to you again.
It spins and spins.
I'm tempted to slap it down flat with my hand.
But where will it land?

I am...
mixing in some Tim Burton pictures into the next staff meeting powerpoint presentation and playing David Attenborough with The Natural Confection Company Jungle Jellies. Watch as squishy Monkey humps miniature elephant and purply snakey is bitten back by a most unjelly-like thingthing with sharp incisors, who most definitely is not part of the jungledom of us here jellies. WATCH OUT!

one small death at a time

I want to close my eyes now.
My eyelids are heavy.
I can’t stay here.
I am walking.
I am running.
Faster and faster until my feet are treading air, higher and higher and I’m wiping the clouds out of my eyes and picking the trees off my clothes. It’s so blue up here, like the sea, and it has her pulse. My old dog runs to greet me. God, I’ve missed her. You are here too, my beloved friend. You’ve been waiting for me. There’s an almost finished crossword puzzle on your knee. You show me how to build my new home. How to pluck things from below to decorate it with. I choose some lavender fields, swamps, rolling hills. Horses with long manes that carry me over my home at such a speed it makes my eyes water and I almost forgot they do that. There’s no need for parallel parking. My horses just sway when I jump off their silky backs. I take the weather, all of it. I plant a willow tree, to remind me what melancholy felt like. We watch each others dreams for entertainment and throw popcorn at each other during the funny parts. There’s your hand in mine during the scary bits, though they become fewer and fewer. I order up vanilla bean desserts, but I make my own stew. It’s good for the soul. I blow the moon away when I feel like twirling to the thousand birds who sing just for me in the morning.
Yes,
I can close my eyes for this and never open them again.
I want to close my eyes now.
I close my eyes.

in a war, fear not

it’s messy in here
there’s a lot of blood
there’s been struggle
there will be again
it’s ready for it
it beats like
african drums
it could herd the wildebeest
across the serengeti
it is gigantic
even when I am small
it’s older than me
it’s imperfections are beautiful
that
is my favourite type of perfection
my heart is epic
and aren’t you lucky
it’s beating for you

patience, lover, patience

Patience. Love. Understanding. Repeat. Patience. Love. Understanding. Repeat.
Remember all those moments you tried so hard and the wasteland they ended up in?
You threw grapes at him while he was cooking with his back turned towards you, because you didn’t know how else to direct the bursting ache in your chest. The same one you got when you watched him shave. The one that forced its way out of your eyes when he let you shave him.
Perhaps connection is one you should take, not wait to be given.
Wait for the dark.
Let your open mouth hover over his lips and nose while he’ sleeping and wait for him to exhale, so you can try to steal his breath at night. It may be as close as you’ll get.
You know he’ll never be able to give you the understanding that rustling leaves can. He won’t let you make a fist around him and listen for the crunch the way they do. The way they trust you.
Oh, your fingers. They want a lot. They really do.
But they can hold and give you back so much. Paintbrushes, car steering wheels, type, type, type,. Turn on the shower, turn on the shower, pump up the volume. Yes, that song. Put the cork back in the fucking bottle.
Perhaps it really was all so much easier when you could blame the emptiness on circumstance. When you let them trickle through a revolving door, one by one because you felt pretty giddy when you ran your fingers up a big hard cock and for a sweat and tear filled while it all didn’t matter so much anymore. You didn’t expect to feel anything more than that. And there were no games to play.
I am tired of playing. I am looking forward to touching the air with my fingertips again. It never pulls back. I am looking forward to golden sunshine that is merciful and caressing. I am looking forward to autumn. And I am not afraid today at all.

can you feel my pulse

Do you remember that guy we used to see sometimes in the milk bar across the road? The one that was always walking in there on his own and never walked out with much more? You thought he was kinda cute and I’d just shrug my shoulders. Well, I was getting some groceries at Safeway after work the other day and there were so many people there. God, I hate going in there sometimes, but I was really looking forward to making some pancakes because I knew they’d make me feel happy and I was hungry after all as well. Anyway, I saw this guy just sitting down in one of the aisles and I thought maybe he’d fallen down, but surely people would have helped him, but they just kept moving past him. At first I was going to turn around and pretend I didn’t see it, but then I pushed my trolley right into him. I mean, why the fuck would he jam everyone’s way when everyone just wanted to get out again too, you know? He didn’t move, he didn’t even look up, so I rammed my trolley into him again. Harder this time. It felt really good and I hoped he wouldn’t react so I could give it another go. So I could fucking kick the stupid thing right into his flesh. He did though. He turned to me and simply stuck out his hand. That’s when I recognized him. I felt a bit guilty at this point, so I offered him mine to help him up, but he just tugged and pulled me down instead. I didn’t expect that and it made me trip and hurt my knee really bad. He laughed a little at that. Fucker! So then we were both just sitting there. In the middle of this packed aisle. He was staring straight ahead and I was cradling my knee. It really hurt and I was enjoying just holding it there on the linoleum floor and I slid a little closer to him and reached into the trolley behind me to pick out the maple syrup which I then opened and took a big swig from. I let out a big sigh as if it were strong like whiskey and burning my insides on its slithery slidey way down into my belly. I was waiting for it to make a fire in there, but nothing happened. So I took another swig and then handed him the bottle. He took a sip too and then smashed it against the shelf with the cans of tomatoes standing tall like red aluminium monsters. Then he picked up some of the shards of glass and offered me his hand again. I squeezed it against mine. So tight, so tight I never wanted to let go. From our palms ran red little rivers and I named one of them Phillip. We started discussing where Phillip would travel to if he could pick his own countryside and we both agreed that the hills around him would be mossy green, like somewhere in Ireland. Yes, he smiled. Phillip would enjoy the misty sky there as well. It sure would be better than the bright fake neon lights in here I added. There was a pause then, so I leaned my head on his shoulder, let my hair stick to spilled syrup on his skin and closed my eyes for a moment. The rushing and running around us became Phillip’s mighty roar, snaking through his beautiful countryside, full of rain to feed him as we pressed our hands together even firmer until I asked the boy if he’d like to join me for pancakes. And his smile and nod finally made it safe to let go.

another year down

The full moon laughs at my exhaustion. It’s my birthday and as I wait away the tick tock alone at home, alone how I needed to be, it cracks a little, this feisty stubborn heart. And it feels a little ill, all the way up and down and it’s still stubborn. It’s stubborn enough to call it hunger. Just hunger for pizza. I find the restaurant that’s usually empty and wait for my friend. The tables are huge at the back where it’s dark and the Italian rubs his belly as he looks me up and down and tells me I can smoke inside. There’s a crackly radio playing loud cheap romance. I open the wine and drink straight from the bottle while no one is watching until she’s here and she watches and I’m home in her arms and she lets me break a little in the spots where it’s safe to, where it can mend itself and she holds my hand and walks me home where he is, but he isn’t really and the leather sofa is cooler in this sticky night, sticky web, his sticky arms don’t feel right. And the dreams come knocking pretty soon, they come cackling into my throat until his hand comes to wake me and he’s not so sticky anymore. In the morning, I’m thankful for the sun, even though she’s fierce and I feel like I have my strength back for both of us. I feel like I miss him. I feel like I haven’t seen him in days. And even though I’ll see him tonight, I’m worried I won't see him all that soon again at all.

the sea, she sings as blue as she is

My wings spread out
over these wheels
when we are driving.
Further,
further,
further away
until the hills are rolling
like crazy wombats.
The horses are leaning
like willows frozen mid-sway.

Is it the horizon?
Is it the sea?
No dear,
it’s just you and me.
My hand on your knee.
Fuck, I feel free.
And the silence
between the choirs of the tree
is when the ocean lullabies its
‘hello, where have you been’
I can run in any direction
Oh,
I can run in any direction

The sea,
she feels safe
as she carries us out
and your hand is perfect
resting in mine
as her waves throw us
here and there
Your hand is perfect
closing around mine
as she fills your lungs with brine
Your hand is perfect
clinging to time
as she washes across your frown
And I’m happy to drown,
love.
I’m happy for you to take me down

I’m happy for you to take me down