And there they were, the words of stranger.
Outside my door, walking tours. Fem.
I know of her. And that’s OK.
Its OK. It is OK. I keep saying it.
About different things. In life there is only difference.
Distinguished. Playful, deference.
No gravity, its all lost. No suction or sound.
Captivated and lost in bright eyes.
I splash water in my eyes.
A passing truck. Trust me, too quick to blink.
and the cafe vibe at the end of the day when there is no outside world to come and take the rubbish away. I pay for my tea. Honey and Milk.
Two apples before, one in each hand. Plucking at the petals of a flower.
She… me. She… not.
And its all knots. And I lose interest or is it interested?
And it comes pouring out of me. Asking all these questions and HOBART.
and there he goes past the window.
and the taboos of it all, the exhaustion of a large group.
and the comic relief.
energy and the acceptance of death and the scattergory of musical chairs and wondering at how we can just sit there alone. And I wonder, sadly at how once upon a time I was stranded in my own uncomfortability. And I shared that with everyone. And I need to check in and and and and and andf and and fuck.

Cheers. Cheese Chewing gum.
All I need is an name, date, age and tombstone.
I’ll come up with their story.
The sweet relief of something real. I’ll come up with a story for them.
One that you will be sorry and happy to read.
And you ask me.
Ask aks sak ska. scare me.
How are you. And I look you in your beautiful eyes and I wonder.
“Can you hear the rain?”
Pouring is the wrong word.
Crashing on corrugated iron.
Upside down inverted bubble. As if giant fish swam upside down and exhaled tiny water balloons. It all comes crashing down to earth. House, dogs, cats, umbrellas, lovers, cars, grass – all washed clean.

The late invitation to dinner, is like an electric piano on your spine.
Teeth like white notes, gaps of black.
The fillings of that smile, animated.
And how you’re coming across- always taboo.
I feel wild, aware, thoughtful.
Yellow shirt yellow shirt. Yellow shirt.
And I look you in your painted eyes.
Still wet from artists description. Tears maybe.
You sneeze and the nights glitter puffs into the air.
A ghostly cloud glimmers.
Pup pup. is the sound of our minds disconnecting and powering down.
Like a tomb from the archive, dusted of by the strong blown wind.
Chest compressing, eyes squinting.
Wild marbles of the mind,
my corporate ball clicker.
And the reading starts again, and its my move.
Choices are all mine.
How do you feel about this loss?
Lets walk in the cold and wonder why our voices change when we get sick.
Is it the interplay of ears and mouth made tones or are our vocal chords actually influenced. It all leaks over and the stars of the city light up the night. The rain comes down and washes, refreshes everything.
you get it in summer but even in the winter there’s a need.
Don’t get pneumonia red-heads.
Read heady books under heavy sheets.
Hot hot waterbottles and slippers. Silk body next to mine.
Sexy body. Ravenous. Pulling nails from my hand with desire,
gravity boundless and the habitual change that comes over me.
People are afraid of change.
I’m scared, scared of so much. The grey hair, the loss, the choice the patience the squeezing, claustrophobia. Ick.
And rock climbing, exhiliration.
Bambi and the broken leg.
Throwing white roses in the air and worrying about the girl that lost her father the week before. Grace- I don’t know you that well.
But I feel your pain. But mine is numb like winter passed.
Like a brain as cold as the feet. My logic as cracked as my lips.
Parched. Un-patchable. Launching confrontationally into question after question. What could they possibly ask me that I don’t already know?
Useless interactions. Let me ask you a million questions. Don’t you dare gather yourself. If you want to play this game then prepare to lose.
You know me too much, enough. When we’re quiet in eachother’s company then we will know death. Mine and yours. A romantic coupling of stolen tongues.

White blood cells, wearing the skins of their victims.
Glands will tell you that they always rememeber.
Swollen egos and to original success of chemical warfare.
Your own sickness, illness, disiese ridden flesh is the successful warfare of race and weakness. Unaccustomed, promise. Perfect blackened eyes.
The whole world is made light of.
You don’t know what my laughter means.
Let me laugh at me, utter reaction.
You’re emotion is my laughter.
Stunning. Welcome and final.
How is the rain now?
Tears tear hearts. Acid drops burn, while bread-knives pulp the fiction of breastplate. Breakable broken china at a greek wedding means that you’ll take my talking hand for all of time and love me as your own. A child. A being of illicit sickness, desire and privilege. My anger, rage, danger of emotion: jealousy and self righteous frigidness. Ice Kind. Your kinglyness. Bow and Bow and Bow.
The onomatopoeia of brilliance. Like the fall of coins to deaf ears.
And we honour the dead with the miss-spelling of name and broken jokes.
I cope. An manage.
Readings readings.
Writing’s writing.
Tongues eye
Lips poise.
Cracked visage.
All that in a yellow shirt, yellow shirt. yellow shirt.
sex. sex. sex.
beer. beer. beer.
fuck me. fuck me. fuck me.

I’m a fish. You’re a fish. He’s not a fish.
we’re all fish. He’s my space cowboy.
I’m a lost fish.
“i’m going to go over here”
You’re a goldfish.
We’re having an after party. You should come.
He’s gone. I’m uncomfortable.