Permanently anxious and alone on a boat

Raised hairs on arms like some freak ghost-watcher

It's the being alone and my own consciousness

Of not being elated

By being on a boat.

Brisbane city transport

Can't live with it can't live without it

Fucking sparkling gif of a river, constant

Idiot

I can't cry anymore from lack of child-love, missed Birthdays

Or fucked up chocolate cakes with hair in them

And if I maybe felt like all the things
I've said and done with people
Resemble Murikami's thin romances
Some toying touch and wrist flick
That left them broken
Then I'm more alone then ever now.

More than one suicide, a few cats and you're doused
Again in a smell I still catch
On my friend's friend
I'm too shy to ask it's name
To see if I'm right or if I'm just stupid.

If I dream of you it's a nice release
From car crashes and glazed cakes.

Your shitty hand-holds seem some
Unreal thing that I once knew
And the way we sat with the world
Between our crossed legs
And ate and smiled.

One week here and there
Might seem insignificant for one
Unaware
Of how I keep time.

Some great chance to connect with
A relative, bald and blind.

You could say I'm trying
At least I'm not crying
When his head turns
And I'm not given the choice
To reciprocate.

It's fumigation day at Gita Bayu
Barbed fences and small dogs wearing shoes
Guard the entrance.

Through the smoke, men in gas masks sway
With their guns, past the palatial four-stories.
Small women adjust their Hijabs between
Scrubbing cars.

I sit and suck in the grey stuff
Open-legged, make weird noises
From my cigarette-hole.

I use all my hands to cover my breasts
Turn my head and weep when they stare at me.

If my bones were flush as fuck with those of others
Lined so neatly in the walls of Parisian dark places
Well, I'd laugh
My skull grating lightly against another

And to be buried standing up, with my bones at right angles
I guess it's better than
Those dream babies I imagined last night
All coddled in dirt and butcher's paper
Lining the stones of our closed-off fireplace
And making that earthy, strange smell of sad flesh.

If our house is built on weird visions
Then let it fucking thrive

I've seen Sue One and Sue Two
And maybe I'm finally through
With crawling and cleaning and
Breathing like you.

I've hid all my pictures of you
And grown my hair longer than that
Woman we saw somewhere and then lay
Languid near some nocturne ducks
And kissed.

In the dead of night I ride my bike
And ponder things that I dislike
Fraudulent feminists and waste'o'space fuckers
Who send back my coffee

I curse you all.

Until I'm going so fast and my brakes don't work
And no Yorkian lyrics come to mind
So I slam into some unyielding place
And I'm gone and it's the sweet retribution
Of all the fuckheads I've damned
And my body has to wait til morning to be found
Because everyone was sleeping
And when they do find it
It's been gnawed at by possums and someone has taken
My mangled bike for parts.

I'm having milk shot into my arm
And getting off on bumps on the road
To be happier and less alarmed
At the state of things
At being without wings
And sweet dealings of prolonged engagement.

It's just when my limbs go weak and my lips can't speak
Protests against coarse-haired men
That I fall deep into some coffee stained furore
And curl into anyone

Mortarboards tip and topple their way to the ground
Without dignity and with no pretence of significance
Like any old hat or girl

If I could change my disposition from melancholic to sanguine
I'd be a fine specimen to lay your hands upon and sigh
Thanks to moon-speckled faces and chaotic worlds
That probably exist without me.

I'd paint my house blue and we'd just live, me and you
In azure drenched rooms where the sky comes through.

And at night you'll hold me and if it's cold
I'd braid my hair around you and fold
My fingers into little papery suns and stars
To keep darkness away.

The machine that engulfed me spent most of it's time
Demure and stony-faced
Until one day some elements shifted, some tiny interplanetary
Drift of objects
Made his gears and parts grind wrong and in one stupid second
My shirt was caught
And we were both scared.

Glasses shiver and cutlery quivers
This kitchen fractures into tiny slivers
Under the power of her fury.

Knives dance in her palm
As she decides which direction
They should hurl
And curl their sweet blades.

She wasn't put here to hate
But even her steadfast loyalty bends
And breaks under the pressure
Of this house.

They'll destroy each other and break all links
Her pile of bones atop the kitchen sink.

And when I become that witch
I bitch-spit on all I once loved
Knit scarves to bind babies' breaths
And tear toenails from tender toes.

Baby if I'm everything I must also be nothing
What hangs over us is a hand spun net for hearts
That plan their lonely escape
When it all turns sour.

Somehow I've learnt how
To breathe myself into hysteria
Minutes before falling asleep
Because I'm thinking of all this shit
But then
I'm safe and happy realising
That I know what I want
And that all I want
Is to die
Ha ha aha

I'm near a cat with drawn out eyes
And a gentle piscine tongue
Fawns my outstretched hand and speaks of
Sundrenched lines unsung.

Such unsought affection disarms at once
And I, no longer detainee,
Protract each vertebrae because
A flea that troubled me.

I jump upon your lap
And dream of smoked fish in the sea
There's nought to do but pleasure seek
So stroke me
Stroke me
Stroke me.

If you were looking, you may see
A body suspended upon debris from some degree
I thought was me, and feverishly
Annihilated any chance for success for a pretty dress
With blue and white flowers.

And if my hands are spent from mining dream houses,
Blocks of lapis and small sheep will heal me.
I'll let you control daylight to save me and bring me back
If I wander astray.

I've become heady with hedonistic days, but for her ...
I construct torturous scenes of a patriarchy
And spend hours packing small girl eyes and their hearts
With cotton wool.

I'm too far away to see him but if he hurts her
No God will know me.

It's best if I'm moving, feet are for proving happiness
And if their skin is peeling then I'll let you kiss them.
As I breathe out, you breathe it in
Not intimacy but serious art, you and I.
Three years and I'm still not sure what that means
I'll take warm rice and beans any day over
Fleshy texts and sexed up red heads
With a penchant for pathetics.

I'm surprised to find you aren't deterred
By my vertical inconsistencies
My long bathing sessions and wet ears.

I'm finding bike chains and perfect jackets
And smiling when I think in cliches.

If I'm gone for a day or two
You're not to care.

Like chewed up bits of you on
Slow spinning plates,
I just don't mind old smells,
I just don't mind at all.

I'd prefer no child sounds
From that gummed hole
And no excuses
For leaving me alone with
Half the world in my bed.

Deference and indifference
Become skills and ways
To kill small pieces of
Friendly neighbourhood smiles.

A bath requires a kettle boiled
Soiled hands that don't shake
Tiny mouths that won't break open
When all of this, all of you
Aren't enough
To erase my cleanliness.

Upstairs I'm hiding and filing away
Dead fishes in salt dipped fissures
Of deep digging fingers.

If I'm to find cure and reason
For such conniving treason you'll be the
First, to see these tear dunked pages.

Birthday girls and sliding men
On manmade hills leave me alone to tend
To a certain sadness.

For at the end of that special day
I can't find my friend, I can't find my friend.

If sad songs won't do it anymore
Then I'm not sure what you're looking for
There's something in this
Late night kiss and emptiness that resists
And defies my attempts to fail
At you.

I tread concrete streets and treat myself
With kind words and surreptitious glances
At other people's romances, such
High-strung love faces touch
Sometimes, and then stop.

It's decadent and at my detriment
To celebrate; yet my heart grows fuller
And more bold with each hand hold,
Each soft word that drips into my ear
Makes me spill both warm and cold air
And fills, fills.

Fly back from your megafauna continent
Spill melting butter bread from your hands

I'll just keep finding tall bankers
And stay in my bunker til you take back
What you said about me and happy accidents

I'm crouched in a dark place and eyeing off finches
Which flinch and flicker their strange tongues in my face.

If I could stop leaking and walking into walls
I might even be loved some day
Throw my hands away
And be satisfied with cold stumps that prod and point
In your direction.

Inside my shy mind-eye I bicker and cry
Refuse food and curse my father
Grow bitter tasting plants to rub on your ailments
And let my sore dish fingers peel their layers off
Into lukewarm soapy waters.

But at night
I see large arms emerging from the bed
And from the sheets
Limbre toes from perfect feet
Form intricate braids inside my sleepy head.

You're less haunted now
When I'm saying hello
And plaiting your digits
With interest, building up some breeds
Of investment
Love-mucked monies
And personal assessment.

Tonight it storms.

It's just me and some crystals dulling each other
Perhaps I should
Offer them not as token
Of some sacred meaning or opaque dreaming
But as trace, as gleaming teeth
Might beam at another lover
In a silkscreen scene
That I let air every now and again.

Expendable, commendable
Your sheepish ability to break
Fourteen people
Stuns.

Nothing but loyal and toe-sucking
Fuckers trying to make your life
Easier, cheesier.

Meanwhile your heart is harder than
Your stupid fucked little animal ornament shit things

I'm sincere and weeping
As my mother climbs into her car and smiles.
That life I'm sucking, or whatever
I'm caring, I care.

It's my heart shaking and spilling
Pieces of wet junk all over you
I'm delighted to see someone, anyone
Notice

Or wipe their mouth on my shirt
While all I dare to do
Is grin, or worse, look down
And pretend I didn't see.

I'm tearing and getting some sort of
Goosebumps from not hearing you.

Speak.
Though, maybe I'm not meant to care,
Not meant to hear.

Little salty mouth sucks skins and
Turns it's face to the sun
Crackles and dries up into
Two silver circles misplaced
On her face.

It's something to think about, those lips
When being scalded, scolded and swept
Into the floorboards
And when you're just ill.

I'm horizontal from the super moon
And the weight of you upon my body

My open throat shares it's wounds only
With dream-eyed aging men
And the stinking digits of ex-lovers.

They poke and scratch at what they claim is theirs.

I neither argue or fight
But shift my limbs into their own
Stroking hearts and grinding bone.

Buses howl and weep as teary eyed drivers
Have hysteric moments of weird intimacy
With themselves; intimidate me
Date me, rape me into
A resemblance of something
I used to be,
Someone with well-kempt hair and shining eyes
That don't take naps twice daily

In armour for you, enarmoured
And being led by your hand down into some hot bed
With four tall posts and a kitten for my head
When I'm not sleeping it's said
'She'll go far'
Maybe I just want to listen to night noise
And hear your quietened voice
Drift in and out of consciousness
While a conscientious rose peeks in and sighs.

It's been four years and I've collected nothing,
Collated and contributed nothing. Not one
Word was useful and even this is fucking awful.

Soulless ironless seams of my body
Coming apart when your fingers pry and seek
Meaning that might be accumulating behind my ears.

But I'll wake up
One afternoon in a year or three
And feel the noon sun on my neck and
Regret hating everything about you and me.

More than one bath a day
Points to certain deficiencies in mind and space
Scratch paint off the walls and make this place
A haven for you and me
And tiny dream children with wild hair and
Fingernails that point and tear
At my terrible lack of colour.

I'm dressed in someone else's mess
And becoming less and less myself.

:)

To be scrutinised in that vast place
Is to have your face
Screwed off
And inspected for glitches, nothing unnoticed here
It's all slippery magic cast by small witches
And bitches
Wearing black.

If you would like something destroyed
or lost

I'm dreaming of starcraft
And your fingers untangling my hair
Nine hours in a car induces a small happiness
As I picture me hurdling into unmarked territory
Myself against the tar

But it's not too far
Until I'm north again

And when I'm spent
I'll curl into you
And we'll make a pretty portrait of two
People probably pretending to be happy

Just when I've had enough of shut-eyed speak I slide from one floor to the next fucked up shit

And I might be vomiting nebulae
If I'm forced to leave this place
I haven't heard that clockwork voice in days
To make me try to change my ways
Of late nights and sheets over our head
I hate everything ok cool

When the heat alleviates, happiness ensues
My hour's shower proved fruitful and a true
Release

Shut-eyed and mind-fucking Antarctica
Enough snow to fill all your holes
Crystalline formations on both our bodies
Whether they touch or not
.

You deserve so much more than this,
Arms wrapped as glasses kiss.
Starless ceiling and spiteful lovers,
Miniumum wage and drunken mothers.
Talentless telepathic underneath the sea,
It seems I hate everything about you and me.

That flat tyre tires me
It ran me to the ground
All my money went to the taxi man
And not a limb was found.

Revealed his parts in front of me
The mirror cracked and burnt
My milkshake, it went everywhere
And nought is what I learnt.

This is a city of ceaseless sun, sweat-smiles, sugared serotonin:
Future-You and Future-Me
Are beautiful here.

We are sitting on a bank in the South and tonguing some ironies
A clock of hot tocked hearts
And flavoured air
Is all we need.

And to realise, to have such real eyes
(No doughy doe eyes from under the sheets)
Is to forget all the foil-packed mind menders

Future-Me won't need your head pats and petty reassurances.

Please be more shut mouthed...
Nothing you can say will ever make anything better.

Weet-Bix for dinner
It's just me and the mouse
I hear next doors' mouths
Childspeak and steak-house happiness

There seems to be no alternative
To ant-ridden bread and crawling toothbrushes
The furniture is taking on figures and forms
Of friends that I can't find

My bed is soft and sweet
But I'm terrified that I can't outsleep
What is wrong with me.

I'm scared of you, Colin

Your kitchen touches my bathroom so neat
When I shower I hear you cutting up potatoes, skin, meat
What elaborate cameras have you set into place?
And what holes have you drilled to look into our space?

Fear of you brings no energy, rather
It calls for closed windows
Vodka
And climatically inappropriate clothing

I'll keep on hiding knives and bricks
To cut and numb what sense still sticks
Until there's no trace of me when they come in the door
My body in bags stowed under the floor.

The walls thicken and swell in sweet anticipation of me
Defied gravity and the will of someone's god, I have, to be here,
And yet I'm frail

She doesn't want me here.

Brilliant emergence from that life-sack with my fluid face,
I disgust even myself
But in that one movement, she can't fight back and
Pupils dilate and lips part and shoulders snap

I've had my way.

Until foil-packed body menders
Work their acid
And as quickly as I came, I am gone.

rasputin loves me more than you
and i could sit and watch his wasp-throat clench
all day.

instead i churn out pathetic movements
with spittle flying
bruised cheek, beer piss freak
of me.

and i know just whose life im sucking
out of the nineties
my hair isnt red but it could be
my hearts not stopped but it should be.

i'll show you how pretty our limbs can get
twisted, wet, around my neck

No one actually means anything to anyone.

Sick-handed shock-faced idiot I am
Weeping all over this house.

Unformed ants with white bulbous heads feel for me
They wonder why I push my head against the floor
And look for things that aren't me.

We all want to see our reflection in others
Beautiful wank-faced strangers
Please me.

But when I see that there is nothing between us
I'll pack up all my things, give everything to my sister
And find silence.

How fake and fucked everything on my hand is.
Head-butting bastard, left me with a chuxed face and masticated potato
Perhaps I'll just please myself on this here bed
Until you drag me away and declare me decrepit
Tell Sue how shit I've been
How dizzy I fall when I forget to eat those sweet-treats
Dream of drugs and cunted up faces.

Skip your dinner, lick your guitar out.
Stuck-jaw, wisdom-tooth, heart-ache, chalk-fingers.
Never been born, never been born, never been born, and
Never met you.
I'm an idiotic fuck machine

I may be fucked, lost to sweet madness and infidelity.
If only you knew how backwards we get!
Now I can only read 200 page novels
And aspire to a moderate appetite.
This is so ultimately shit.
It's all I want: strung up, ripped
From the other side of the room by terrific
Terrible sweat eyes.
I can't understand why morals prevail when it's all wrapped up
And packaged.
These dreams exist in no other bed; your God will keep them here.
When my voice goes you'll be happy to hear only you
In this wooden room.

So real, touchable rolled up handy girl
My girl, rag girl, take me with you?
I fear I don't know what's wrong with me
Compulsive anxious freak out tantrums break skin throw things
Detune your guitar and
Smile wickedly when I want to cry.
But perfectly normal- apathetic, apologetic and lovely
Claim hunger and patience
Enjoy you in holy fucking matrimony.
I should have never left me alone.
I just want a friend with no care hair
Denim jeans
And horses to spit me back into place

To sweat, to spit, to feel something; all this I would do for you and more
Standing on my toes and trying to be something more than me
"I'd like to be you"
Did she really say that? Spiritus beautiful girl
You're too much for me.
I could weep lying next to you
Lizard-limbs aglow from chlorine and sunshine
Nestle in, sweetheart
If I were a teacher, I'd tell you everything I know
Salty shaking smiles passed like butter across the table
I'll never hurt you.
But love me. Love me.
I won't leave unless I know you're okay.
You cried when I said I was going to Russia.
But I won't leave.
We'll see to each other, you and me.
Lucky-limbed, double-figured girl-child.