I always start with a crash
A boom
A gong of doom
And so it was
On April’s
Pink Moon

It wasn’t the people that meant nothing to me
That hurt
It was that you
Sided with them
With a nastiness
You can’t deny
Now your actions apologise
Right?
I never want to see that again
You see that river?
I make it bend
Isn't that mad?
Forgiven
Friend

Truth,
I was there
When you were leaving on the air of my breath
Mixing with the vibrations in my throat
With the ideas in my heart
Into speech

I was there in real time
Connecting with surrounding minds
That nodded with recognition
Touching
Watching

Truth,
I’ve been away for some time
I’m putting words together on which to walk
But for them, I’m a drifter

Truth,
I’m onto you, returning to you
Sniffing like a hound

I feel like a thick residue
Smoked membranes, gasping slow

I'm leaving standing up like clear glass
To another day

The cold grey sky
Coming in like clouds thru my window
Is leaving my eyes crusty
And overheated with thought

Someone gently crack my skull open like an egg
**** my brain up thru a straw
And mix the skin and muscle of my back with soda water

It's time to take it easy

There was a man who played the drums
He played them so loud
That he couldn’t hear anything else

Every time I went to his house
I’d cover my ears
And say I can’t hear

I’d go home at night and complain to my wife
“Love, my ears hurt
I think I’m gonna go blind”

I’d be over at his house
Every other night
And his drums just got louder
It was starting to addle my vision
All I could see was Crack Bang Kang Jingle Jang!

This went on for a while
I lost track of time
Then my wife says to me one night
If those drums are so loud
Why do you keep going?

“Crack Bang Kang Jingle Jang!” I replied

I’m stepping off one island
Onto another
Reaching and feeling
Hanging in the air
So I just wanted to record some things here

I remember those spaces
When we use to sleep as a trio
In our parents room
The eucalypt humidifier going

Having mum rub Vicks on my chest
Closing my eyes
Enduring still
The completeness of her hand
Pressing down on every nerve

My sister on the red bucket
Playing drums
And me on the Tuba
Calling out music-less directions

Those spaces in my memory
Fruitful magic places
Alive and sunken
Whole, ethereal

I bought an easel for my sister
My father said I was rich
How I wish to be that rich again
My leg hanging in the air
Moving off an island...

Why has no-one ever felt me?
Am I a plague?
Won’t anyone say?

It really hasn’t dried up
That well to make the ocean
Look like a puddle

Am I lost in the lie?
Is it pride?
Is that what you’d like to hear?
Did I finally go mad
Out of reach
Made it to the top of the mountain
Upon which to preach?

Why has no-one ever felt me?
Or is that stuff
Just make believe?

Am I too much?
Am I too little?
An atom in a universe
Multi-coloured skittle

To be honest
I know as much as you do
As to why
No-one has ever felt me