i've scribbled my lies onto
napkin dispensers and
on bus stop windows
hoping their distorted reflection
would resemble someone i recognize

i'm sitting here between
train tracks between
reasons to live

the lump in my throat consists of
a tired shoelace
a broken wavelength
a bottlecap
a cigarette ****
a brick of charcoal
a shard of stained glass

wonder what this can sounds like when
i crush it against pavement
wonder what an ant thinks about
when he hears the word 'enslavement'
wonder what a star sounds like when
it's streaking across a night sky
wonder what your hand feels like when
it's held tightly by mine
wonder what a car sounds like when
you and i are ******* inside it
wonder what your smile feels like
and how your spit tastes inside it

i press my shoulder against a cool brick wall.
the birds are screaming at the sun
rodents hide in the thick grass and
burrow deep in the cool soft ground.
i will find a safe place to bury goals
and innocence, bad ideas
a new deck of cards
and a bottle of something.
i will mold you a statue of my kiss.
so beautiful it will cement your feet to the ground
so silent, all you'll hear is sound.
all i have in my pocket is a swiss army knife
half a pack of cigarettes
and a folded paper bird.

Let's play
Army;
I'll lay down,
******* to bits.

I was going to write a sonnet, but I didn't have the gumption
First my pen ran out of ink, then my hand just wouldn't function
I could not start or stop to think
Things were happening in slow motion
I felt as though I'd surely sink
Into the coldest darkest deepest ocean.
I started off fine, my ambition was evident
But by the 10th line, I'm debauched and decadent.
I hate to write this, my fingers are hesitant,
Nothing else in life is, but failure is permanent.

I had died
my friends had me buried
nine feet underground
in Australia
and they drank to my memory under the Sun.

Nigel was a hired hand
he dug my grave carefully
he talks with an accent and a cigarette
he toils under the Sun for three long days
silver tools chinking away at the hard desert rock.

I took a long ride on the Flying Spoon
up and around the lover's moon
and finally I've come to rest
in this spot under the Sun
nine feet underground
in Australia.