In the sun,

The open air. 

Tactful L

In underwear.

Under roof

Sheltered rain

Writing down

With sweet refrain.

And we rush as we rush and we rush. Gushing running waiting, timing looking hating stressing.

When does become internal? All of this, staring at the mountain. There’s a low hanging rainbow, the deep set cloud masks and hides, retreats and excites.

Others are worrying if they’ll get a ticket. Thanks.

Thank everybody. I’ll pay, you’ll pay we’ll all pay you back. What’s inflation and interest if not the wheel of risk and predictive text. Trends and touch points run rings around us as bandits on the walking track materialise in their many different forms. We’re safer than ever- pay your way. Ears, eyes, forsoothed my tongue. Tongs clench at bumping hearts gripping and rallying screams as we wrench apart. I reach out to you, embarrassed and hating my needs. I cast the dice by stepping out. Amongst the birds, the gypsy folk-lore tells of crippled dragons and King Eagles. Running feathers down my back – to shiver and reel away from all I see and hear. Feel.

Feel that tension, unexpected, jaw clenching ticklish-mess. 

Meshing pleasure with other things, beware as breath comes short and teeth grind. Tearing eyes weep silent reflective thoughts, bliss of movement and stretched limbs- a yogic OM passes you by I the form of a car exhaust. You tire, and the sun blares down. Rain stopped. Hos the book? Dawkins is rich with ideas, so wonderful- down he ro-and-rows articulate moving notions. Riddling currents with me and you and our shared beliefs. Tolkien’s Niggle paint our meme of knowledge. Capacity for symbols become meaning interjumbled. Chaos and porridge rain illness with digestion. Burping flavours reminisce and predict. Laughing giggle-loops threaten as I hinder thenthreat. Stoppage. Clasp, breathe don’t vomit. Hold it in. When does it become internal? my… Absorbed. Feelings and sickness. Vomit in a towel and keep going. Unwashed- crying skull of tears. Arris arrivals of chapped lips stop trains and strangers. Suicide flux, pacts of deathly self reprisal, repose of a rose picked and plucked, petal fuels my gruelling struggle onwards. Words from

My mouth. Exinternal. Eternal Co2 canister. Insecure suffocation. Zip tied lips and Velcro feelings; bind us. I’m out of town, sneaking out the red doorways, forward to lift. Glass tinted removal. The villain of seeing this beach for the first time. Accented, deaf. Whole dug. Below, sharp immaculate ! nOt innaccurate crispness!!!! Right to business. CRISPINNNNNNNNNN. Protege moi. Read, wright. Alleviate, shoeless style sickles sickness barbarism, China southern. Money invention- fake riches bail out. Why can’t I do that?

Diff
Fidd.Fed cool.
Feed. Fear. Fer. Verdant.
Hair, curling, whipping. Loving.
and it all goes, and the sun blows.
All flailing, russian down.
prince flown.
grown.
go.

Diffusion.
Defuse.
Defusing.
Defruche.
yoghurt.

Fernuch
Fenucken.
Furnuchen
Fernucken.

“don’t you worry about that”
I rented out our house.
You vomited,
You feel pain.
Don’t you worry about that.

Red line – A bus to nowhere new.
Science Po crastinate.
Masticate. Think on ritual death and freedom’s hot blessing riddles us.
Riddled. Riddled. Riddled with Aids.
Death defying.
Poo crastinate. Something to do. Shit.
Shell shocked, spittle dribbling down red cheeks of flax.
Seed stuck and tasted like lost oils or hair and frying pan.
Gemstone crazy. Glinting eyes, procreate closeness.
Speak. Interpol and the old gesture of remembering something I used to use.
Normalcy in society.

Looking forlorn.
Two white walls.
Forming a corner
Roofless-
We can see the stars.

Without eachother we are barriers.
Closed and in the way.
But when we meet-
Closed becomes interlocking.

Promise me you’ll always remember, you’re braver than your smarts think.
Aye. Eh?
Pulling out the sounds that are so awful.
Patronise I will.
To mean that i’ll frequent your establishment in kindness, that will always betray my position of superiority.
Strangely so, so the same.

You’re supposed to be here in two minutes.
Where are you?!

Next tear- you will see.
Blurred hot, running free.
Frightened hurt gravity.

A Tee-Pee.
Minus the Tea.
Is just warm undrinkable liquid.

Hello darkness my old friend.
It depends how wet it gets.
How wet you are. Success, catches, tiredness and pregnancy.
Lost moving and a draining tiredness.
We need to go to the beach or something. You’re flat, tired barking and sick.
Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up.
Run away. Die, bit my feet and my fetid foot with fuck you up.
Coming down like timber. A crumbling howl escapes your jaws.
Relax into the crushing feeling. Destructing reigning down.
A perfect storm in a tea-cup.
Come to my place?
Bone china, little fragile hands shake.
And your howling stops – never again to start up.
Crushed. Killed. Destroyed.
Barking mad.

Only do a job if you can do it well.
Starting is the hardest.
You’re back you’re back.
I’m lost in thought and happy to hold you.
In my arms, like the bare farms, or cardless diceless faces.
Landing and flipping- cutting luckily to the point.
Sides beside reside confide in hope.
RESUME when work asks how you are.
We flirt with flighty ideals. The push and pull of
-you could do better-
Oppon. The one headed coin, two headed luck.
No shower can stop this degree of sitting.
Side splitting, hitting lost remitting mittens.
Having kittens with how my plans shift so much.
Munchy lost returning wattle of the grey scaled lust of other worldly possession.
We wait for what could and could not be.
reinforcing out hearts and options.
Falling hard. On our knees, our arms outstreched.
Covering eyes. Tired hopeful feelings of trust.
No abandon will cover how we have felt in the past.
Armoured resilience.
The job that needs doing.
Pregnant labours of lusting collection.
Sheets of red, pallid cold showers bleed in the past.
Fast felt obsessions run riot over my shivering body and the rules make no sense.
I’ll shout and lie and tile.
Roof of houses, floors and knees.
Baby please, listen to my integrity.
The sharp end of it all is lost on you and me.
I’m growing –
around, out away, alone. Heaping heartless folds.
Crust of crayons ebb with torn halves of peaches.
Features and benefits of my studies escape me.
The stolen lives of academics as they posture and play at some otherworldly-
hardworking green, moulding myrtle.
Mass death aids our foreign contingency.
A seriousness of the ritual.
Passing on from age. The time is upon us.
Daily birth, and self worth. Finite timeframes gloss over our plastic snap frozen limbs.
Swarthy. Lickless.
Curt assesment of sweating limbs-
Showing out guts gone von.
Vulnerable but I didn’t tell you the plot at the start.
The style shifts.
Tell them what you will tell them.
Tell them.
Then tell them what you told ’em.

Time licks. Radiant. Wallowing.
Screaming cartoon. Frazzled hair-
and a head guzzling midriff.
middle drifter.
Are you free for a walk?
A proposal we all want.
Access, love in kind.
Pieces of lemon, segments and rind.
Findout what it is you want.
Lust over and be OK.
Perhaps I am nothing after all,
the centre of the universe.
The only matter that makes this disembodiment real,
unfathomable flowing into circumstances of other.
Strange, bare, irrelevant outsides.
revealing cards of red and black.
The saboteur –
I never was any good at that, no choice of role.
Just thrust into it. Between two rocks.
A bun, chummy and cordial else lost in the bush.
Flush with envy and chaos. Annoyed at formula and irreverent of all else.
Psycho trope executed, you never know what you’ll get.
get yours. up yours. flawed. floored.
lusting garden gnomes. Dicking digging stealing. Hearts and breath.
And here I am, possibly misunderstanding, definately misunderstood –
probably a sociopath.
Psychosis ahoy-
This melancholic boy
Badly bitchin’ math.

I once told you.
How does that sound?
I love that plato said that we were once round.
And the nuts and the nuts.
The position of it all.

reading, removing, moving and loving.

I once told you. Shoes splitting, unwitting running up hill always.
Just a phase, reworked magic of the ill forgotten gains.
ask and ask and ask. The pressure of time.
Passing foal of the lying, honest
Ney. hey Fhay.
fake hay. and that was your old girlfriend? And now you love them both.
Well today way queer. I bumped my head.
A clean out. It is spring after all.
Television, perfect condition to one landfill.

“A tell-y-vision in each room”.

I don’t have anything to say really.
No strong emotional state. Sated ride, ridden tired happiness.
french kissing, blocks of chocolate and long walks on the beach.

Spot on. sporty loving feel-good.
Everything seems grande.
earning money for the fun of it.
frugal wanting, hidi holes.
Rotten eyeballs.
Golden walls.
Snug as fuck and without luck.
lacking days of wonderous rolling in the heys.
hey I said. to dad and mum.
Don’t look down, or else feel glum.
Runnick amok, coming unstacked.
withing for time, and needles… In my neck.

Walnunt. Wallmut. Mustard. Mustark. Fussing spark.
Royal purple. Colour confusion. Red lines and beers in the sun and vomit.
stomach clenching down. Rounding spine, red wine. Clasping hands.
Friendless. Yellow updates. Hopeless find.
Eating flowers, paying you mind. Nodding my head asking nothing.
Giving all and putting out washing. doing dishes, writing home,
Becoming a part of a bigger home.
Lost in translation, wicked hat. Feeling fradulent,
defining my existence by one word, but not knowing, unknowing what that word is.
Posturing memory of the contribution, but the pressure of all that is surrounding.
All is sacrifice. nothing is scared.
Only blood and steeely tastes lengthen our lives.
Hot and heavy to the back of my throat.
Floating loss., livid eye drops.
Dribbling spittle of heckling haggling hunger.
Let me live one day longer.
Revoke nothing but your hatred for this revolving plastic fabrication.
Annihilate spelling of miss.
Sun-stroked thoughts of pregnancy.
Alienated education of my fickle serene.
Sunscreen proving the creep of my hurt.
I am ultra.
I am violet.
A purple head of hot lostness.
The sunscreep.

Deathlosophy being, my hidden account of wanting to do nothing with you all.
Riding bikes. The tick on the chest of a cat.
Draining, vine-like. Blood sapping. Handshakes and a fear.
These aren’t people I want to meet.
I have a lot of work to get on with.
walking, walking, walking.
sitting sitting SITTING.
Backed up. Bloated.
Feudal serf. Under the microscope my hair doesn’t grow.
The focus is elsewhere.
Buy, always buying-
into one system or another.
I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.
If you say sorry you admitted fault.
Let me offer you a letter.
F a hook.
For you you have mistaken in the past, the blood that drips from drinking mouth.
That takes so much of the world, sated and unworrying.
Nothing critical about it.
Walk, walk, step, stop.
Scream, screech, shout, hope.
Direct and hope for a study of things that aren’t lost on anyone.
just true-ness.
“how did you sleep?”
Not well… but I will survive.
Leave me alone, poor, without anything to give.
Alone along alone. Walk walk step step.
Clop-clop. clip clip; my hairs stand up
at attention. Rolling, tumbling jumbling hills of my colour blind self.
A slave to the eyes. Closed and tired. Pucked and ridden.
No tropics, no coconut smart enough to perceive.
It was all a sound. The sound of F-
my my, deathlosophy.

Red as riots get.
What ever do you mean.
new wheels indeed. congratulations.
Thanks.
Bit of self promotion.
Got tired of the earlyness of it all.
Earl, eel Adam Cotton.
Umbrella Umbreal.
Unreal. Reas estate.
Adam damn dam dammit, damnation.
ation. ion tion. ion ism, action.
fraciton, reflection, fiction,
poilitics, ricks, party tricks.
waffles. Wasted time reading and motivation was low.
Waiting wishing wondering wagging.
Wattle and gum chewing and the two hours I was owed.
Lost and lacking; and now he’s here and the mess of massage begins.

Loathsome, loss of time and it all comes together nicely.
Sickly, stomach bloats as the ocean floats.
Ethanol down the drain.
Like a bottle of vodka. Mindless destruction.

And the revolution. The roundness, the single point,
the pointed head. Fear of people. Stampeding.
Always asking: what can I give you?
WHAT DO YOU WANT. And I flex my temples.
I squint my eyes.
I cordially invite you to share.
I’m often let down by people –
always giving more to them,
always giving more than I take.
I steal your time your hearts your ears, capacity and space.
Pacify, capacify. Passive strikes, lamber and gillen.
Fallen cotton. Picks into, into itself.
Rolling rollicking mumbling magic.
Mr Tumnus if that is how it goes. That’s how it goes.
It is how it goes.
The spurs. The shaft, the handle, the hold, the colour, the protection. the cover, the loss, the blowing, the inverted, the curve, the wooden, the popping, the poking, the walking stick, the lightness, the forgetfullness, the amicable, the royal, the dainty, the pretty, the patient, the squint, the pushing, the wet legs, the ankles and shoes, puddles and splashing, lashings and resistance, mary freaking poppins. The size, shape, colour and handle, eye ball losing on Oxford Street, old English; Hong Kong. Three sights of revolution.
Did you go? Did you go?
Did you god?
More people. More anger, more love, more writing, more choice, more estrangement, more quizzicle natured folks.

And they take take take.
I hate them all, hide away want for less. And I’m bored.
and I sit. Time flying in a scope of movement we all cant fathom.
How big can our eyes see? How large can our minds comprehend?
the graph, the people, the smarts- theory and power. One movement, one choice. Options and scatter graphs and for what? The waste of individual time.
I told you we were here for you.
WE TOLD YOU NOT TO WORRY.
You just cry, and you go red, and I feel the emotion coming off you in wave.
You are emotionally twinging. Ripples, and sickness, hollow, anger and fear for the unknown future. Sit, patient.
You trapped me, made me care.
You are my weakness. You are not my love. I barely know of you. really truly, you’ve given me this job. This place to pass the time in my bleak blackness.
I need to walk, to think, read, hide, aloof, aloft, high minded mumbo jumbo triggers my leave of absence.
Get IT OVER WITH. Pull the pin. Badly blown up balloons.
Baboons, shining red faces, embarrassed or otherwise.
Disguising my okayness with silence. And you know.
Peaceful, patience. Critical sickness.
The unecessary drive for change and fear of the same.
What is wrong with now?
Everything is changing, that’s what’s wrong.
loop -de-loop.
Language of lost soul.
The shoe I purchased wasn’t quite right.
Not I have blisters.
And I coug and cough and cough.
You walk past the window. I’ve cooked dinner again-
I’ve washed up.
My hands, heart and lips are dry.
My patience is all but stubbed out.
And here you are; asking for more.
WHAT DO YOU WANT.

A happy sexualised weekend.

My writing is terrible.
I must grow scathing with my tired eyes.
Curt cut throat spilling it all.
Tasting and tasking blood.
Rectified attempts and blushing rotten things.

Quiet bliss
Sleep engulfed them.
Peace erupted and overflowed.
Silence was upended by hallucination.
New lands and lives in harmony were dreamt,
songs rattled and startled emotions they hadn’t had.
They could see now. In their tiny skulls,
resting behind their closed eyes,
a regrowth, somewhere new.
Feathers, flowers,
and finally.
Fruit.

How can I help myself?
Appeal to the greater nature of things.
Must we try and find someone to work this new job?
Do you want my direction or what?

Who fired the Canon? Vs What the fuck was that?!

Origin of the word dodgy: second rate, shoddy. Hit major usage in the 1950’s.

People take 20,000 breaths per day.

Come back just before ten past nine.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I tried. My routine is wrecked. Run. Study. Work. Tension all over.

Brimming with defiance,
the silence of dragging wrath,
wrap warped wrath.
Writing wants on a page,
just to meet the daily deadline.
deals a broken. Bespoken, and my robot heart wreaks choices chosen chortling chucking up guts in the street, of stress I know nothing because its just being plugged in an visiting friends and my body language.
Magical birds, the cloud, suicide broaching realities with no significant stylistic parable.
The third year awash with the ease of it all.
“I wanna come over and fuck you to bits”
“Let me cum on your tits”
What the fuck are these feelings all about?
Why am I always choosing the psycho? Cracked.
Smiles in the shopping mall.
Small worlds indeed. Closing and criss-crossing.
Men with so much in common “He’s seeing his ex-wife”
Ohhhh – no good.
And unfinished unfunny.
Only halfway good is what I said or something like that and i’m not really hearing all of these things.
Or am I. The thundering downloading pillaging plowing feeling of animal sounds and a rolling flooded gorge.
Too much sun and not enough situps. “Maybe i’ll starve”
Searget, Jon my brother. No singer.
Except under my bed. and these middling lost feelings like the teenage years of lostness. Nothing solid or helpful.
Just the 9pm gentle waking sound of violins violently sounding unceremoniously into the night, into other people’s lovely non lonely lives.
Do you know knots? Nots?
NOT NOTS. JUNG or some other guy.
I haven’t got time. the book in a day routine? I wish.
I read others. Simple things and he was hung, by the swings.
Her shivvering passing grandma smile as the darkness consumed her and the devil came knocking for her sole. Soul of her feel wafting and waving in the air as he picked her up and… contempt,showing on his skeletal face, bowing down and stuffing her into a plasting bag. Innumerable strength. nOT ot not of this world.
Just like something you’ve never seen.
The old body mass vs weight of strength. un-in-a-de-calculable.
A broken figure is all the reaper gives. The devil and him rarely join.
No poker or gambling. The loss of hope and love of others, just maniacle women.
Mandibles of my lostness closing around my neck- on the swings on the swings on the swings. I am between chains. A tangent most bold.
Cordially I come knocking. Knowing I haven’t worked hard enough.
No exams really. But my stresses bloom in my eyes. Ideas foil around me.
Self monitoring sickness. Beans and sugar brown my ears and eyes.
Flooding willingness surrender.
Laughing and choking. Choking and laughing.
Spittle, blood, purple, fluttering eyelids, slits… then globes.
Wide eyed. Crystalline whiteness. Brilliance encompassed.
My right and leg, competition of an uninspired, deflated left leg.
Talk work, talk work talk work.
YOU DON’T IMPSIWDNOBSKOVPVKNPV
Fuck
fuck you fuck everything
this is all bullshit.
this typing this route.
The horrible lost and recklless fuckless reckoning of giving a shit about any single thing and why cant this just be continiups and not caring. throw it all out the window and become better at the things I want to become better at like being free. Honest brave happey healthy and inspired.
Smoking car. Bad shoes. Undeliable hair and so much sitting.
no winning no drinking/ Where is my boss, my manager. Hopeful destressed alaxck vomiting on my hands and rubbbingirubbing it all in until these rears are infected with my insides or funning running oils of want and persecution runs like a hot rash down my jaw and the car crashes off the bridge.
My exhuasted knees give out and the pen writes on my wrist a writ of life dispelled/ Red pen blue pen green pen black pen.
Ben gone wrong Bill eat me. Fuck you fuck you fyck you.
South of it all. Shouting at the night, the daylight. Strangling animals, children like foil. Seeing myself and asking what the difference is. Pulling over because and ambulance needs to rush by. I’m a vbad driver roll with it for god sake fuckkkkkK! !!IOjzosdkhfs WHat is this just be free no comofjweofgkqa[p no como4utgfopg
No compter skills literacty clotts of language behind the veil I just want it all to end and the psp pree spree. Before it all goes gund and gonzo.
Flummoefin
Fun fun fun of the fin gone wrong.
rags and why can’t I just let the person die.
HUMAN NEEDS ROWAN THANKS FOR THAT MAN.
Now I wonder if I can just bubble along like normal- scaring every single person. A flake and jandice poxy pointed stranger. With nothign to share but a vast strange uncontrolled energy. A capacity for nothing sustained. I am the human condition . with bent back and callus feet. Trodden for too many moons over glass and broken things. A cement of the ground not meant of this world. By animalian suffering. A sex slave of the fucked geeration. Broad pools of physical failing. And all you want to do is get high? What is that about? When can we get real, hold each-other and get real? Too soon>?! SAOOWHAT
How can you be this way. How can you break so many hearts without one that functions. LOVE ME? LOVE ME. HOW how could you, or anyone or me? I am sick.
SIck of you of life of anyone and anything. and the running tension of my temple. This body of mine, fumes and toxic. Foiled rolling apple of sultana and sugar. Fats and loathsome situations fold in on themselves.

I make my bed. Rest and hope for a better day.
Rest in peace.