How do you guys do it?
Such a power couple. Good looking.
Do you enjoy what you do?
I woke up at 9:07 today. 2 hours and 7 minutes after my shift at work had begun. I slept through my alarms because I was drunk the night before.
I’ve spent this morning staring at the ceiling.
Dry mouth. Map of Tasmania rippling.
I met Ali.
His group of folks.
Mobius and around.
I visited Sol and Edward.
They turned in for the evening. Sol was sick.
Taking in the fumes of his workplace.
I called work, and now I just wait by the phone.
I could have showed up. But I was in a bad state.
A girl came over and chatted to me and the guys last night.
I walked with her, I was charging.
Plopped my glass eagerly on the the table, splashing a little.
“you can go”.
She said that to me. I could have pissed all over her there and then.
marked my territory, ripped the throats out of anyone that tried to stop me and told her that it was her that could go.
But I left.
I was the burden. I don’t think I said anything valid all evening.
I said “the sew joke”. It was mean.
meanness is horrible.
I was the Kluge cube that day.
Giles leaned in.
I thought at first he was going for a kiss. But no, not that.
He put his hands gently on the area where arms and shoulders meet.
He squeezed ever so slightly like a hug using only his hands.
His eye line was just beyond my vision. Close to ‘the nook’, the feverish, comfort spot. I was exposed. I held my breath.
Tracing the outline of his form, so close to me that his eyes were seeing past mine.
“Help me” he said.
Not ashamed. Not a whisper like the love of mine from the bar. He stated and I was complete in my loss for words.
That night I’d asked a good friend what he was drinking, and why.
It was a test. Just make noise, ask a question. See if they’ll spend the energy on the child. Put the gloves on. Childcare.
Such willing, wilfully given opinion.
The ripples on the tasmanian map.
Like a window. Into a garden.
Faces in the land mass.
Locked into one another, joined.
All touching. Connected.
Natural order. Oyster, pearl, work, ear.
Drained. Drained and drained. Burnt out.
wrecked. In need of healing.
Let me crawl back up.
Let me hide away, frantically inside you.
Free me from this body. Hide me.
Hold me. I’m poison.
My PH is off.
Acid in the blood. Dry mouth. Frantic gaze.
Sick. Thudding. Rubbing. Pulsing into you.
Frightened. Screaming. Fear and sadness.
A load bared in the base of my body.
If I could funnel myself, this essence and hide away in grief stricken anxiety for a time.
Let me go.
Let me end this thought. I don’t wish to hide away.
I will discard versions of myself.
Succumbing to the warrant of self imbued freedom.
My desires now shift.
The restorative qualities of my age.
This life force of mine.
Passion, fighting, prime.
I was looking for that “monster joke”
I gave your girlfriend a backrub. I hope that’s ok.
I was ON.
Juvenile. We’ve just left the sandpit.
I think this intimacy is something we can all share.
I’m not a shaman or wise man.
But I do have time.
Time for all.
Delt these cards again.
Dealt these stars.
This handful of sand.
I’d picture the same to happen, but i’d be wrong.
With this knowledge enduring?
Would I sate so easily?
The drive by shooting of hallucenagenics.
Illusions, dark shadows inside me.
Three of a kind.
Pairing off, may I join and be a useless spoke in your wheel?
Would you like to be on top?
I put my hand out to you.
Palm turned up, touch.
Don’t shake hands so much, let me feel the touch of your hand.
I will carry the weight of your hand, arm, everything that you can put into that gesture I will take from you. I will bare, I will be a bear.
I wish to hibernate.
Heat coming off me in waves.
Driven by the animalistic urges of hunger.
find me a bin.
Watch me revert and lower myself.
Thin, my mind frame, ravenous after such a fast.
A quicky? Hardly.
I am a mutant.
Let me become beautiful.
If only my mind would let me.
Let me go.
DO VERSUS THINK – AND HOW THEY ARE THE SAME THING.