'love'

Of course
there's some
sad irony
in the fact that I feel small

but then
when I see you
wondering
at your
semi-neighbour's door
excited for something
(though you don't 
feel excited
- about anything -
anymore)
I know that in fact
I am tall
the tallest I will ever be, in my youth,

tall like only those
before the post-teen barrier
who have already surpassed me
and know without superiority
that they have long surpassed me
and this wants for keeping and
holding
etcetera

like all my thoughts that are of myself at 18, 19
that have jumped ahead of me,
through my fingertips
right now ('15)
and are holding the 'successful' 30-yr old me
to ransom
(I can feel myself shaking in fear, laughter
or maybe
it's just
vindictiveness)

so right to say
"it's as if everything changes"
and so right to say
- as I did -
"I wish".

triangle

all those fragments that shot through so fast
into some perfect formation of language
and then
snuffed out the other side
knowing they existed, now
in a place that is not
beyond, but
under
my consciousness

having spent the longest
seconds and
inches of hours with me
and knowing all of me
like some fast-forward future
intellect system
with the same principle as me
though slightly less
blood
in both veins, hands and sink

(I keep imagining the door opens, but
I suppose that's
what I
wish would
happen - like some old ritual before I
fell off the stage)

and like you'd wind deeper and deeper into your computer made colours
I can traverse forever
into the curves of my own words

like everything at 23 it
goes before I get to have it

and I suppose - like you said
why would you have some skin
when you can have walls and her
and fate

ava

between me
is leaking -
not for cycle, but nuisance

my shame
guilt
fear -
my femaleness -
dripping, gluggily, steadily
out of me

I went to the doctor
but as usual, I'm a mystery
can't figure myself out
so why should someone
else
?

http://postsecret.com/2014/09/13/classic-secrets-43/gooday/#main

g&t

sometimes
you just need to be
drunk
to know what's going on

the sober mind is too
busy
it gets in the way
it sees things logically - and
that
is a problem

and maybe I'm heading
towards that NZ cliche
but heck
I think it's good for me
it's good for me
well...
not good for my liver,
or my stomach,
my lungs - BUT
it's good for my mind
and let's be honest

that's what they
value most
the brain
the brain
fecck.. what's a body?

6h 28m

what an awful
/ typical paradox

that the weeks I'm in my own place
I'm 'coping', yet at yours I
love for two days
and then
forget myself, for you, I
reduce like some sad atom

and you, in our opposites
supposedly love me
there but
suffer the distance
the minute I am gone

just be here
just be
be here
You know I'd share
all of it.

and to make matters worse
(here comes the self-pity)
the words have fallen out of me
I've fallen out of myself
out of my body
my head
my eyes have fallen out
all fell out when I fell
(or seemingly so - maybe that's another
blame trick...)

and back up again -
again
there's no time to back up
back up, but
I forgot
how to
walk

trying to love backwards
across, over, out
I'm all out -
I'm all out.
I'm all out
but not finished

daisies

I've never been to places

where daisies are 

at night

but tonight I 

went, and they were all

closed up.