The sleeves are short and tight around your thin arms.
School boy image; slim and delicate.
School is long gone, but you are still so very young;
what with that baby face of yours and all.

A ring- stainless steel, its hard edges giving it a mechanical look- loosely hugs your ring finger. Whenever you flip someone off, it glistens under the sun
and I hope that whoever you're cursing is able to appreciate it too;
the delicate frame of your wrist- small and weak. The nails that you try to keep trimmed but grow too fast and as a result are always a bit longer than you wish they'd be.
The way your fingers fall into position, effortless, never forced.  The way they never bend all the way in despite being perfectly capable of doing so (there is no need to, and this is a reflection of your confidence.). The classic Casio F-91W wristwatch decorating your wrist. Straight out of the 90's-- you are rebellion, teenage rebellion, ****** hair smooth and healthy, polo shirts with popped collars, black skinny jeans torn at the knees.
You sleep somewhere between stupid punk and silent elegance.
A bittersweet drink that burns the throat and wakes the senses.
Somewhere between a drunken, buzzing, neon-lit Miami and a lonely tragedy in the deserts of California.

You are so very you, unapologetically ignorant to the world surrounding you and so very self-aware.
You pick up on details that you say fill your soul- the way the buildings are touched by the sunset's dying light, the patch of fog that settles on a faraway mountain you've never set foot on.
You look at me with eyes that say you understand our exact coordinates in spacetime. That look that is synonymous with the moment a flying arrow begins tearing the flesh.
Your eyes, melancholy, seducing. You speak, the words just barely escaping your throat; but I don't hear them. The universe is silent. Your lips move.

"---- -- --- ----?"

I understand you are asking for some kind of information. I don't know the answer to your words, but I know the answer to your eyes. The answer to many questions you ask, maybe the answer to anything you are able to ask me:
My eyes threaten to shut, almost-closing unevenly, and I say, slowly, in an unlearned language, the sounds a string of milky saliva being pulled out by your tongue:


"---------."

Your name.

because when you look at me, when I see you, there is nothing in the universe. Nothing but all you are, your beauty.
Your hands, your slightly-parted lips, your silver rings, your Casio wristwatch. Your body.
My body.

Our body.

The soft-skinned, smooth, young vessel we share.

Darling boy. You are so beautiful and the world is so *****.
You will never tell them about me, of our time spent in front of the mirror.
They wouldn't understand- it isn't about the contrast between our image and the stupidity of mankind, it's about you.
You, entire.
It's about the moment you raise your hand and the world bows before your image. It's about the distorted voice in your poetry, the voice that is yours. The face that is plastered over everything you create, the face that is yours- made for yourself but offered for all to drink- gullible soup, sugary drug,
secret poison- hidden under a screeching melody.

It's about the cheering crowds that dance as you sing:
"Destruction. War. Chaos."

It's not as shallow as a vain "I am beautiful."
It is something deeper, more translucent, more intangible than any concept that lets itself be understood.
It is a mob of unstoppable energy screaming at you in blind joy when you give out your commands. It is in the voices that cheer:
"Sebastian!
Sebastian!
Sebastian!"


Sebastian.


Schoolboy image, Casio wristwatch.
Your name a page in the bible, moaned in ecstasy.
How beautiful you are, how sweet in your lies, how childish


and how very aware of it all you are.

I woke up blurry eyed to the syncopated screaming of my Casio clock.
But I didn't mind,
because in 2 hours time
I'd see those pretty green eyes
and you'd finally know how much I've changed.
And to the beeping of my Casio clock
I remember the 4 page apology about being a Casio ****,
But I didn't mind,
Because in 1 hour and 59
minutes time
I'd no longer be searching to find a way to say what's on this paper I've signed and we can be friends.
I look in the mirror and I look like ****, to be honest my looks haven't changed a bit but I've bought these ******* expensive jeans,
the same ones that haven't been cleaned since I kneeled down in your ***** and cleaned
the bits
from your lips and stroked your hair whilst I waited for an ambulance to come.
But you wouldn't remember that.
And so today would be the first day of light you've seen reflect from my skin since you gently peeled me off like a used band aid.
But I didn't mind,
because in 1 hours and 29
Minutes time
You'd remember why you ever held my hand
And
Even if it takes ten years id work to become something worthy.
So with my unclean jeans on I spray some of that same genre of deodorant,
Clean my teeth freak out about forgetting a haircut and say **** it at least I found ten dollars for the train fare.
And with my **** hair I didn't care,
Because in 40 minutes id be there,
And breathe the same air
The burning stars we once shared,
And so I check the time,
And so lose my mind
As the train arrives in about 5,
Seconds.
And I watch it race away from me as I sprint through the rain in my special suede shoes.
And as I walk in cold boots
I realise, that I don't mind
Because in 29 minutes time
I'll be lost in the warmth of your eyes
So I jump on the next train
And the officer decided to pick my brain
And I have to get of the train,
In the rain,
To buy a ticked again,
Because I don't look 16.
But I don't mind because in 19
Minutes time,
I'll be with that one perfect kind.
So I squeeze the letter in my pocket as I finally jump off at Perth station.
Pulsing with anticipation,
I run without a pinch of patience
Through the rain under a storm,
And I'm finally here.
I look around.
I sit down.
And you're nowhere to be found.

An eyelash on my cheek.
I caught it and blew it.
With the wind.
A star shoots across the sky.
I tied a knot.
A four-leaf clover.
I almost stepped on it.
11:11.
Says my Casio digital watch.
A coin lying on the sidewalk.
I flipped it down the well.

Fingers crossed.
Eyes closed.

I feel lucky.
I wish for you.

New gold Casio watch,
Loosely hangs from my wrist.
It hits the bottle harder than I do,
Against my best wish.

Swish of whisky down my throat.
I've never been one to boast,
About newly bought possesions.
But this watch,
This gold Casio watch is the exception.

bottlerocket,
ski click &
shoot.

         [empress impressed.]

petrol souls drift the skin & aetherous
of our holy mother lake midday.
by alpine,
lymph node,
spine of glimmering fish;
i never truly thought that love could destroy.

       [to display the paradise boon and boom salute.]

her knife atop the stump.

*

yon machines construct art-form of reservoir (yon being short for yonder),
knee-boarder-boy wake to wake, he wags his tail when he dreams.

        [lakeside.]

tribal the beach: a family drunk on juiceboxes.
rolling rocks. tall boys
& boulders/ bountiful canyon kids
with their beautiful gasping dogs.
****** knee **** and gallop at the foot of a mountain/mound &
sugar ants stomped, longing to empire.

mom bunches her fists into sand
of stolen crag, listening closely for her childhood in the whistle
of a casio conch.
margaritaville will do.

          [to **** or kiss beetles.]

kiss;
the bitty prince.
maintain a steady alliance with all lifeforms and flora.
life is programmed as thus;
algorithm of love.

bright honeydew soaked slabs of wood,
or plank, tabletop treatise.
wet pile of seeds.

young small birds hoard seeds for winter;
teeter into spring;
& upon summer find solace in swift slip-n-slide daylights.

Not a moment sleeps
when our motion wakes
and perpetuates a new arising

The greatest races ever run
are those without a finish
and the hares become confused
to which it becomes obvious
of why the hero was the tortoise

An anti-hero now
when a Casio watch
measures nano-seconds

The western world is exhausted
and the road stretches
past the horizon
and the East have been running long
for over 4,000 years
and they don't even need an inhaler.

So who is laughing now?
Well the answer is quite clear;
whoever found it funny.

Casio