My dad dug his foot into my back like a shovel breaking soil.
If I do enough push ups, can I put a smile on your face.
If I move the earth for you, will meteors stop me.

I carried sparklers in my hands while cannon-kisses erupted in the sky,
and my cousin swore that I'd hurt myself.
But I explained to him that history repeats itself,
and that my hurt is unavoidable.

Like the hug of a grieving grandmother,
and the staring off into space,
as her tears stain my white oxford lie.
There's no way to get out of this place.
Finding new ways to live in death.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.

And her fingers left a ******* on my back.
And my mouth melted onto hers.
I love her until my eyes **** in sleep.
And it's deep. And it's deep.

The swirl of the ceiling sank down
like a child being drowned by his mother.
And I missed my brother, and I missed it all.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.
No, not anymore.

Never, not once, in my life
Or past lives, even past centuries,
Have I been a formula.
I dance in the eyes of needles
And underneath the skin of skinless beasts.
I sing with my fingers,
Around (your throat) the pen
And I smile with a thousand hearts in my eyes.

I have never been the essential equations,
Numbers, measurements and shapes
That glue together formulas.

I am not normality that you can bottle,
I was born to drown in the sky.

I close my eyes
And lick my lips
As Full hands
Turn into finger tips
They go down my side
Then over my thighs
The hands begin to undo
The laces on my shoe
Then the buttons on my pants
Maybe this is what they call romance
The hands know what's next
And what'll feel best
As they slip between my legs
The more my body begs
They stroke where it feels right
And my muscles become tight
When I finally I ***
And all of my body is numb
I finally open my eyes
And realize my body has told lies
For I lay in bed alone
With only hands of my own

Aw, come on, don’t be sad,
Don’t you know you are loved?
Unburden regret, cast it down,
Living in the past burns,
Your future will be in flames,
Just let go, relax, hold me.

I need your touch: need!
You want to come in?
Do you? My door is open,
Live now, shed anxiety,
Uncertainty comes from dread,
Dread of what will be.

Yeah, that’s it, snuggle closer,
I have you now, you’re free,
And yet, also bound, safe,
No chains though, just love,
I ask for nothing, just you,
Smiling, happy, not sad: okay?

© Paul Chafer 2014

I can never call just one person home because homes decay over time and if you're not careful they'll collapse on you.

You taught me that the difference between a house and a home was who you belonged to and I'm still trying to figure out how I could belong to no one and everyone at the same time.

I've spent my entire life in houses with unstable foundations
And more than a few of them have caved in on me
Trapping me in the dysfunctional rubble.

Humans have a bad habit of destroying what keeps them safe like natural disasters and I now understand why they name hurricanes after people

I've learned to live in the open because the night sky is a lot stronger than any roof or "I love you" will ever be

Siddhartha sat steady on a the hearth of an apartment, eyes closed
mouth closed, mind open and enchanted
Zen-man lingers in a dark park starting,
to realise indiscretions of his past lives avatar

(but don't for a second believe the lies you've been fed by the brother of your brother and the father's of the jingoist mafia because eyes blink often and the accumulative effect is a life of temporary blindness and in that blindness it's not possible to be enlightened)

Your mantras are a lie but the belief remains still
and so rolling over wild green hills in some Welsh country village it dawns on the spirits of the ether that humanity is struggling

to find absolution of even the most relative peace
- but so, and Siddhartha still sits, cross-legged and barely breathing
Emaciated; fast, faster
Losing her nerve

Zen-man died a few months back but you always live again and so a beetle on a hot car hood scampers in some intrinsic folly, semi-aware of being something or being at all

     Towards the walls of weather-beaten towns the levee finally bursts and all life ends -
until a gathering mist pulls absurd faces in the simpatico rays of a third-eye sun over the bayou of some forgotten rock in the cosmos
and the ethereal temptress of existence rolls the next dice on a green matted board
and our unified oneness speaks a solitudinal greeting to the sky.

7 months,
    $400
         And a 1,178km medicinal trip
         To a freedom unbeknown
         And untasted by these eyes
         I am so ready, but is my life?

8 weeks,
              10 tests, doused in falsities that kidnap the education system,
              3 months and I am done,
             Finished and fully educated to their standard.
             So close and yet so far,
             I haven't learnt a thing.