Consciousness...
A stream fed by melting snow
from a mountain standing alone.

A lonely mountain all alone
left to fend for himself by his
parents, the plates and oceans.

The stream enters the ocean
and there is lost. Lost to
the waves and salt and tide.

Salty waves batter and battle
conquer and fight only ever
winning against the land.

The land's cliffs defend but
no ground is taken only lost
to the sea and its onslaught.

An onslaught into the mind
of a thinker, a dreamer, a writer
a writer's consciousness.

I miss my hair like an insomniac
misses the girl of his dreams.
I miss my hair like the wood used for a cupboard door
misses the taste of water and soil.
I miss my hair like a falling raindrop
misses the safety and freedom of the clouds.
I miss my hair like an old country hall
misses the parties and people it used to house.

Not eating chocolate covered cherries and strawberries and lychees and onions and chillies and grapes and marshmallows and turtle meat and cake and shark bones and oysters and camel and beef and beef with dog food and rabbit fur and smarties and skittles and twine and rope and yak and buses and buffalo and authors and novels and chipping containers and bicylces and emus and penguins and polar bear slippers and darned socks and stewed lobster and Darwin Deez and get well cards and ibuprofen tablets is fine with me.

There is a place between the worlds.
A place of Nothing and All.
Where nothing is said for all has been said and nobody listens.
You can exist and you can't exist.
You can decide you exist but what decides you can decide that?
You can do anything but you don't because you don't have to do anything.
Everything has already been done.

Oon gallee um tonem eh
hallo caking elenta meh
oft alone on windy days
ellon ta ban um tonem eh
gallorn tello en triclon meh
eve in shadows with no sun
give an blem in toomel eh
argen jame oh blem tin meh
playing my mandolin on the moon.

A desk covered in art
witty and weird.
A play for which I've a part
minor and mundane.
A car that I cannot drive
broken and bruised.
A flood that I can't survive
sinking and soothing.
A hairstyle I can't percieve
longish and loopy.
A dress sense copied by many
perfect and quiet.

I walk through the forest fire as calm as can be.
I walk through cyclone winds with a smile.
I walk though the sand storm willingly.
But I will not walk into loving you.