Can we really escape this?
I’m on a mission to slow down time
My exertion acts like an anchor
But I’m tossed around by distraction
the waves are helping me forget the
the ocean I sit above

I still drift, the land out of reach of my hand
the innocence of youth,
sits under the tuck of
trauma, boredom, drama,
and the heaviness of a comfortable routine
that sits open, like an early grave

my route, I take specific lanes,
shortcuts, the best way, by feel, to avoid slows,
delays, bottlenecks
to get to the five locations of my Sydney life
in the most unmemorable way

lately my disappointment has forced
me to look at things more intensely
the rolling of history,
my heartbeat urgent - drifting
under water -
a strange undiscovered creature
hiding in the trench

the year jet skis past me
and gives me the finger

I am good at finding the lazy solution,
which, at work, gives me ability
to streamline process,
but lately I have become resentful
of the ruling order -

I have looked to love for so long
to shift my focus, three month stints,
to become more caught, more running,
more collapsing on the couch, in the quick night
to turn over quickly into my bed

a dragonfly zig zag, we were at the creek,
like humans we congregated around water
we were always down there
it’s only for children to explore the
streets and vacant lots -
now we are adults playing with drones and nostalgia

laying down the war games we used to play
we brought outwards the war going on inside --
so eager to play -- we made a desire line
to each others houses

I got jasmine instead of pears
gathering the wanting, the staged fights
disarray, im going deeper, darker
I’m carrying who I thought I was not -
I am pushing aside thoughts in
the name of meditation

your incantation brought the rain, but
the rain spoiled the picnic,
I’m lost in prayers for peace,
and the prayer the took away the lamp post


I want to break myself into chunks
I want the infatuation to stop
everything has turned into
waiting and seeing


the freeway cuts across the eastern creek
where we fell in - broken bottles -
plastic, untitled car parts
the weight of our domestication

the government switches position
the management is hostile
I am keeping with the known
the mysterious routine I have fallen into
baths - epsom salts
inspecting the plots I have auctioned
off to development
The city feels new, and more comptessed

a metallic taste in my mouth
a sure sign of withdrawal
I taper slowly, pull away
from my inability to be alone

the thought like children
innocent, defiant - waiting to be heard
and understood,
interrupting every quiet moment
to let me know of some need

a knocking comes - and I turn off the lights
I cut loose ends -
and we tie ourselves together involuntarily
like charging cables in my bag
I keep structure - build and reinforce the edges

usually, I can focus and see through
the ends of meaning till
I reach the bliss point,
the right amount of salty and sweet
an underwhelming peace
consistent, habitual,
it has become my second room
where I begin to end the war
with the way things are

Cycling down the hours
with a slight grin
and the burden of your relief.
You have spent too much time
traveling and collecting miles,
how many places do you want to keep;
that have not kept up with you?

I hush distraction, for just a moment
try not to make those mistakes,
that ones where the very effort
not to make them drives their emergence.

my expectations that lead to my
dull aching foot.

What time is it now?
I finally had a look at that recommendation
years after we stopped talking,
and it suits me well.

Fill out my fresh pages,
make enough noise to wake the neighbors.