Wet tears against
White wall against
Warm cheek

Loose hands beside
Two people beside
Each other

Several stiff breaths
A few more steps

One stands
To say they
Can't stand them
Anymore

Against turns to beside
And slightly turned away

Enough to say it's over
But too little to miss the day

The other person walks forward
Not too far ahead
If you tried to you could reach them
but see, your hands are dead

Maybe you could catch them
Maybe we all could've

But directions find directions
And we were facing corners

We leave each other behind
And are left behind as well
We do it all the time
If only we could tell

That against turns to beside
And beside turns to far away
Further and further we drift
Until we return to clay

I hate my house
Every corner every corridor
I hate the doorknobs, hate the windows
Despise the bump on the kitchen floor

Every drip of the bathroom tap is agony
The backyard and every tree
I can't stand the way it screeches
Against the lightest breeze

I hate the chairs, I hate the tables
Light bulbs, curtains, endless stains
Sockets stuffed with cables
Set fire to my brain

I hate the way my house stares at me
I wish it would just stop
The wallpaper I have memorised
Is now my life's' backdrop

The doors slam against my hands
The shower burns my feet
My heavy mind with all its' might
Runs up and down my street

My heart is fixed by every string
I'm sewn into the thick carpet
I'm baked onto the plates
I will never ever leave, this house that I hate

My mind is a forest
Of vast sweeping pine
A continent of conifers
In this head of mine

Contemplation arrives as thin soapy clouds
Silent rivers trickle feeling
In the bush, trails of thought
Go for miles freewheeling

There are no people in these silent woods
No creature makes a sound
This is where I can be safe
In a place I can't be found

Hey little friend,
Do you wanna play?
I could eat your homework
Then we could hang out all day

We could go to the park
Or chase birds at the beach
I promise I won’t bark
Or pull on the leash

Hey little friend,
We could lie in the sun
You seem kinda tired
There’s other things we can do for fun

Like stealing dinner off the bench,
Or hiding someone’s shoe
Even then it’s just as good
As staying up on tough nights with you

Hey little friend, what’s going on?
I don’t see you so much anymore
And somethings changed about your face,
It’s not like it was before

I bring you toys and treats and shoes
I run and chase and hide
But it’s not nearly as good now
Without you by my side

Hey little friend, you’re getting smaller
And more and more every day
No matter how hard I try
It seems you keep shrinking away

Could I eat your tumour?
Little friend, I’m out of things to do
I’m not sure how I’d get it though
Without hurting you

I haven’t seen you for a while now
The home is empty and hollow
Like the caves we used to play in
Or the tennis ball we used to follow

The sun has come and gone
Too many times to count
And I am getting much too old
To run and play a large amount

Hey little friend,
When you come back
Maybe we could just hug
I would really like that

And then we could play just one more time
The world would be our own
And though I cannot speak you’d know
I’m happy that you’re home

She drew arrows on paper
Thin lines and angles
Head to hand, table to elbow
A neat triangle

When you say goodbye
There is a gap
A canyon between
That final look back

A still misty rift
Dividing the time
When the person was there,
From when you left them behind

After this cleft
Once the severing crevice is scaled
You pick back up your day
And whatever it entails

This sealed pause is not unlike
The quiet accommodation of silence
When one in a group speaks of something
The others must stop and balance

It is not unlike the dainty lull
Between the fall of two raindrops
Smaller than a wandering tear
Yet larger than mountaintops

Or the void which ensues
A breath out before it returns in
Our brief negotiation with nothing
At the parting of skin

Of all things
It is most by far akin
To the rapture between a releasing hand
And the something which was being held within

What is in this gap?
This sighing ravine between stratums
Is it an ocean, a light
In the recess of two atoms

This gap is impossible, as are many
Not a synapse, but a sinew
A ligament to life
Connecting old moment to new

Inside the furrows of this stitch
Is where our lives grow
When grasp of the next
Is bought on by a simple letting go