Maybe over-did it a little. A big drive, perfect weather.
A discovery of the best sensation.
Natural flowing water over the top of a waterfall.
Experiencing gravity’s weight; that 80%, natural, reductive, common, therapeutic water. Swimming, with tonsilitis.
Free spinning back, side, front.
Hopping from rock to rock.
Green, and blue – like Bukowski’s bedroom.
a failed Haiku, our purpose.
lavender, bag filling and baked eggs.
Me talking too much,
the base in the bouncing song.
Likened to living in a tin can,
rolling down a hill,
while its hailing,
and the bulls are running after you,
The fun police were out.
I questioned the freedom of 20’s.
people stood on a bridge and took photos later.
Kicking the ball, swimming, soaking up the sun.
Fresh water, no fear, over tired.
Free, glands swelling.
the fear of my neck pains.
throat closing over-
I rebounded a grape off the wall and caught it in my mouth.
Woolworths, offered a security guard a grape.
She said no.
“oh well,” I said.
The sun was out,
we crashed a party.
Two beautiful girls, both with the name Ruby.
Great chatting to everyone.
Rich family, Black Forest Cheesecake.
Too much alcohol.
Topless dancing, everyone naked in the pool.
An enormous pink flamingo.
We pretended to be jockeys.
A few broken glasses around
the fire pit.
MDMA for the kids, not me though.
I had a few beers, meat,
talked of books,
read a DNA magazine from National Geographic.
Rhys played guitar,
I managed to escape.
Handstands, under the open sky.
5 minutes, clouds appear.
Crescent moon, beer, beer beer.
Its getting on-
I feel the circlet.
Surrounding me, a fallen halo.
People’s faces drooping.
Me feeling perky. Awake, going hard for 24 hours.
Bridgette, Bec, Ruby, Ruby, Brooke, and others.
names; who cares? When did I decide they were worth remembering.
“May I join you”. Politeness.
Fucking normalized bullshit.
Avoid me while I avoid you.
What vibes, B1
what vibes B2.
your perky breasts and good taste in music are as hollow as your existence.
You and I will ever be apart and you don’t recognize your position.
I thought about the shallowness of it all.
and I embraced it.
I talked of books, of authors,
What a character.
I talked roller derby with little Ruby.
and talked gardening with big.
Calling in sick for work at 6am.
setting alarms and cleaning the next day.
Filling a bag with lavender,
a goal of mine.
Fine day, rain stopping when we pop out.
Food and drinks.
Bonding, worrying, smiles and sadness.
The universe, human scope.
Worry, silence, “yes Pat”
accents, and HONESTY.
meat, meat, meat, meat, meat.
spinach + cheese. Poppy seeds.
gum chewing and the rest.
fizzy make feel good.
Kicking the ball,
chatting excitedly in the rain.
Family time and knowing that she wont be there.
To see me become something else,
to make her proud-
Look after my children,
bring joy to my life.
Look after me,
show me love, let me worry.
Provide an alternative perspective.
Talk nonsense or play a game.
I’d like to see you act.
Sing, be on the stage.
None of that!
I realize you’re gone.
and I regret not speaking to you alone.
things we don’t know.
or maybe we do.
When you die, you don’t hear.
no brain function.
You were dead
but not to me.
What does dead mean.
I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t there.
I was late,
you were so so cold.
defrosting, leaking, perspiring.
And my heart ached.
I’m not able to contemplate,
concept every rational relation I’ll have to you.
Pins in my side,
eyes ears mouth and nose.
Things that remind me of you.
thing I acknowledge-
you aren’t here.
you won’t see.
Won’t see me grow, or succeed.
you died so soon,
Taken and all the things I wanted to do.
they lost a reason,
a caring and
Someone? No; not just someone.
The woman that raised me.
That shared her everything with me.
milk and blood.
Life and time.
energy, love and anger.
and now you’re gone.
You cried and I didn’t lie.
“I’ll see you again, don’t cry, bye mum,”
“look at the stars Pat,”
Oh Christ. I should have called.
That’s all I remember.
Lack of point.
pointedness and understanding.
Oneself. Shy, quiet, worthless, naked-
topless. White skin, good music, dancing.
Free but posturing, reactions.
Self conscious of our bodies.
Barriers and boundaries up.
And i’m not content.
My throat ached
“you right mate,”
“yes, quite, thankyou very much,” I said.
Quiet because I was suffering, but happy enough.
Not plagued with other thoughts.
Talked to the birthday girl.
She was a keen young thing.
Falling and drinking and chatting.
What a glorious creature.
Knees bloodied, accent drawing out.
Eyes crossing, staring, wanting but
shutting out, shutting out, shutting out.
sugar, meat, salad.
Lying, worrying, shock,
dying – pens to adrenaline.
fix me please.
Yoga stress? Orgasms.
Great music taste-
kiss kiss kiss. but not me.
I sat, glasses on the next day after a hot night on an angle.
Sleeping bag, blood pooling at my feet.
I slept like the small hand of a clock.
Rolling with the times.
But there was no big-
The next day I played the YEATS game.
Tomato/You’re a cunt.
“I’m sure I’m right,” he said.
(i’d hooked him), i’d already won my game.
W.B. YEETS. Trust me man.
“I’m willing to go to war,” he said.
My eyes laid the challenge bare and I stopped it there saying:
Its not worth dying over.
He got the message.
I feel like I faltered, but i’d really buried him and everyone at that point.
Hangovers are mean,
they brig out the worst in people.
Earl Grey Tea.
sip sip sip.