you can weep for 6 years and not even know you’re doing it
it's hidden underneath layers of obligation
yes i can do that, sure I’ll be there and what would you like for dinner
my mind casts back to that  moment of vulnerability
fearing forever being alone
I succumbed to the thrill of feeling fire in the belly
I succumbed to what I now know was just my attachment
to the possibility beyond love’s beautiful beginnings
I made a little compromise out of fear
not having the strength to walk my path alone
I succumbed to the need for others
i projected my needs onto something external
My error in short was this:

mistaking everyone for what I’m searching for

Sure, we all want love’s beginnings
but are we brave enough for love’s endings

There is a sound in a house when it’s occupants have left for the day and it isn’t silence.
It’s more of a dull collective hum of electrical appliances enjoying the chance to indulge their expression without the need to shout over humans.
There is the echo of words whispered in soft tones and the violent ones exchanged in heated debate, also the screams and laughter and the bark of dogs.
There is the sound of unfolded washing, waiting patiently to be transitioned from unkempt mess to organised functionality in a drawer or cupboard.
Their sound before such a transformation is heavy and unlovable, but once the task of folding is completed, they fall silent, thankful to have reached their destiny this week before their new cycle of destruction of order begins.
Toys, where does one start with the sound of toys in the absence of playmates. Their sound is dependent on how loved they are and how much time they have left before they, like a wife after 20 years of marriage, are replaced by the upgraded model, the new and better version.
But it’s the breakfast things, the things left on the table, half eaten toast and a mauled boiled egg that have the most sound.
It’s the sound of a dwindling life force struggling against its fate to be recycled in the compost, like us.
That sound is a deafening silent scream of a resistance to endings, an inevitable journey back into nothing.

you are made up of everyone you've loved
they live inside your capillaries
ride your blood river
in tiny canoes
made up of wood
and memories

you notice them sometimes
the canoe attempts the impossible
and traverses through the aorta
that epicentre
of blood and feeling

it rides rough rapids
of turmoil
and regret
sometimes, longing
that terrible longing
the most wretched rapid of all

when your skin itches
that is them expanding
and contracting
touching your epidermis
to remind you they’re alive
and still a part of you

we are made up of everyone
everyone we've ever loved

Who I am is not this

not a still lake

jealous of the ocean
it’s expansiveness

freedom to roar and roll
gather momentum

wipe out coastal towns
if it gets the urge.


I am not this

a broken Brumby

fixed in a cowboy lasso
caught and corralled

in a vice for the spirit
craving chaos

not edges tucked in
like an over-zealous housewife.


Who i am is not this

a hero home from a war

of fighting the ordinary
wiping out villages

devoted to secure notions
only to find myself

a forgotten veteran
alone with our silence

in a cramped suburban living room
surrounded by mementos

a life once exciting
now just a string of photos.

that form a prison wall
like bad souvenirs

from a time too magical
to be reduced to just a fridge magnet.


I am this

a speeding car going off a cliff

squealing past others
who are still in love with their brakes

but terrified for me
as i ride off

into the unknown
a leap of faith.



The trick to courting danger
is the knowledge that I have secret wings.

Your fortress, a structure spectacular
built with blood and memories
of those who made you loathe yourself.

I was in awe of it for awhile
and then later, bored
with your need to be holed up
with historical demons
and antique canons ready for blasting
new suitors, me.

I know you love a sword fight as well
so come down swashbuckler
and show me what you’ve got.
I have only an open heart, sorry
a useless weapon I know
to bring to any game of love.

I’m going to love you anyway, so you can relax with your cliche game playing.

Anyway, does a game exist
when the other team decides to stop playing?
That’s me. I forfeit
until you surrender
your need for that tedious control.

All your defences seem a little silly
in the face of such truth
yes, I just want to love you.

You say “Can you love this?”
as you pull off your mask
like  a modern day Scaramouche.

“Easy”, I say.
I love the flaw in all things,
the corner stone of a thing’s greatest strength.


No need to chase summits
to convince yourself that the world is yours
Love your weakness
and let it be your light out
of well trodden swamp lands.

When you acquiesce to the ordinary,
magic happens.
Don’t gather souvenirs to say who you are
where you have been
or what you’ve achieved

It’s just a declaration of fear.


When you hold onto nothing,
you have everything.

I wanna give the universe something tough to digest.
I see it with a ******* up look on its face.
Puzzle the universe
Be like me.

I wanna create a gazillion variants of myself.
Each one degree further removed from the last.
Get in line now
Be more like me.

I wanna dissolve the unsurety left over from a thousand
Races that have died out.
Know yourself
Fight the knowledge.

I want to invade the space left by your mind when it rushed
Out to find itself.
Mommy left you
Never forget it.

I want to condition the part of you that takes care of plants
But forgets to turn the light off.
Darkness is a blessing
Only if you let it.

I want to take aim at the eternal you and forever change it.
You are cascading now.
How does it feel
You restless thumb sucker.

You want me to change you, feed you, and take you outside.
I am your new mom.
Momma's gonna buy you
A mocking bird.

You want harassment, a harness, an igloo, and idioms.
I am the fire that will melt them all.
Listen to me
Your time has come.