i woke up butter-side down,
plugging in the USB 'cause my phone's dead
cable twists, third time's a charm.

maybe i'll get up and water my cactus
but it'll survive without it too.

maybe it was the contrast of autumn crunch
beneath my processed self yesterday
that makes me look for meaning under my shoe.

i'm addicted to watching people
outside this one tucked-away building
like they're birds in migration.

maybe it's how dawn's lazy light
seems to kick up dust
and start a waltz above my textbooks.

sometimes it's how cars stop at red lights
that makes me remember how it's one faded line
that's capable of stealing a conscience.

maybe it's the fact i didn't capitalise words here
that makes my spaghetti train of thought
weigh a little less on my head.

turning the tv on loud, losing the remote
that looks like a 5 year old tattooed images on it
and finding a lipgloss behind the couch instead.
i wonder who lived here before this morning.

it's pretty funny to see my stanzas getting longer
knowing how my older self will squint her eyes when proofreading
as if the words have something stuck in between their teeth.

i'll leave the house - keys, wallet, phone
venture out into some sight-beaten unknown
while my alarm clock holds its breath.

but that's all for later -
for now, i'll water the cactus.

but she'll crack a joke and it'll fry in the pan
yoke running suntans like we're not burnt
plan like we weren't drowning in tick marks
learnt that those sparks don't set us alight
snarks sizzle and kite our cheap cameras up
fight or flight, ****-ups stroll us over to both
makeup's made of oaths and expired lippies

and

growth was just memories we'd left behind
cities were left unsigned and roosters hum
spellbinds bit off crumbs of our holidays
sums done sideways with scrambled minds
haze of upturned blinds flip us sunny-side
rinds of orange chide us but our hats are gone
stride down, we egg on, sandals beg mercy

but

crayons colour sprees in glasses-off views
degrees weren't those corkscrew rollercoasters
drive-thru karaoke, poster bed fairy lights dim
toasters retorted, skim reading as shoes kick dust
limbs stiff, favour a cuss but don't do big talk
buses see less than walks, distance is a job
toolbox couldn't fix this throb.

so

maybe if we hadn't lit the fuse twice
it might not have fireworked so quick
but i'm glad we rolled that dice
getting summered was a cement
to those heat-blown bricks.

did i forget how to speak?
were the tides enough to seaweed my thoughts
or was it your pearl-plated tongue?
how many times did i go under
before you fished the air out of me
as i vomited postal truths
at your coral-infested altar?

but i'll always be the devil's advocate
and i'd take a spoonful of salt
rub it into the burns of my lungs
for pufferfish highs
if you'd still stare at me like
the curves on those sin-ful graphs.
only crevasses you wanted to explore
were the middle of that word.

addiction is a strong word,
but the seasickness between spaces
where our hands didn't speak for us
was a new thing for a sailor with no sails.
i'd rather drown in my own thirst
than watch you wave a goodbye.

riding that helter-skelter
round your *******
hair damp from seas and sweat
always the gentleman,
holding my breath for me.

"can you get tanned underwater?"
asked nobody ever, but we tested it
and the sun screaming ultraviolet
felt the same in the ultramarine
when we'd paint over each other's backs
as the sea cried over the sky
and the gulls dragged down screeching.

but my mind was built up on paper
that held the weight of words
without buckling under blotted inks
and it was worth ****-all
as it became a squid's oily mess
washed down with his sweetened oysters

there was no idol that could reach love
so i wished for a tsunami on a broken wave's pride
since we were always so seasick.