so over it that gravity can't even hold me back

worn outttttt

i am done. with. this cycle.
glad to be. maybe i will get some sort of normality back, some sort of knowing myself, some sort of real comfort, not a shitty shiny sketchy attempt at it. you win! ok? you are worse off. you are more tired! you are more stressed out! i don't mind losing, because it means i am not you. i love you, but now i do not want to be you.
well, that's pretty heavy shit justine. quite the turning point, a fork in the road one might say.
(you are less than one, more than every one)
this road has seen enough forks for the time being. i'm just going to let my nose guide me from hereon in, eyes closed,
heart open
just enough to forget that there is more than one road.

for the time being at least.
and youwereright i appreciate the time i have free
now, just give me my timebeing and be done with it

before i turn to steel and copper wiring imitating the human biological system!

quickly, now

efficient listless pushupull

and above every cheekbone raised higher than most i see those dead black eyes. every time i sit here swimming in excess and familiar fondness my gut aches with nervous hunger, my eyes start to droop but i do not know where to lay down. i do not know when to lay down. 

these past 2 days i have consumed cynicism and genius that at least a lifetime ago freshly inked the musty pages i now hold. he speaks of a country that is failing, that has been established in hatred and disease and merciless power thirst. he was glad to have seen what he'd seen, because it showed him exactly what he didn't want. i empathize now - daily the air grows progressively more toxic from daybreak to sunset. by the time i'm ready to sleep my lungs are thickening in a vain attempt to evolve. 

surely by now we have either moved in one direction or another? progress or digress, surely? it has been a good 6 decades. surely these violent revolutions and bloody wars have made some sort of forward step, some impact that isn't just the freedom to other than the freedom to use newer, shinier, more efficient gadgets that in no way promote the growth of the human animal?

the cyborg will prevail. cultural upheaval is commonplace in the post-modernist void, whether or not one questions what one is fighting for.

precipitous

the sky grew lighter as the night came,
golden pastel threads and smudges
rich purple-red scattering
to grey. the royal turquoise ran deep layers

below or above, depending on your point of view.
and it reflected off windows that smothered the clifftops
blinding but balancing

the panoramic splendour made me wistful.

and something clicks in my mind
that is enough
it was enough a long while back
a small phoenix is hooking its claws into
something solid
its featherless body shudders in the breeze
but it seems more content with feeling the cold
than not feeling at all.
its blackblack eyes look up at me.
i am dizzy, being drawn into them unwittingly
like when you stumble towards the ocean, the rhythm of the waves dragging you in
and you can't tear your eyes away
and it feels as if you have almost no control over your body for a couple of seconds - then the next wave crashes, and the spell breaks - like that.
they are utterly neutral; as identity-free as the sea
yet something in them calls to me

or i call to them, depending on your point of view.
reflected in pupils that mothered the wind-smoothed rocks
grounding but terrifying.

in this precipitous state i know i would have trouble falling.
yet i am clinging to the sharpest of rocks
as fear washes over me in waves
it belongs to me as much as these calloused hands
and i cannot judge the danger any better than you -
we are as blinded but balanced as each other.

and some days the sky looks so much like the sea
and some days you look so much like me

you are less than one, more than every one

the cloth lung is the only thing that moves in this room.
netted red, the wall across from me deepens when the window
breathes in.
and every morning but one i have returned
and have seen the moon scaling the sky like a lizard on a stone wall

this time it was i who flicked the switch,
i let myself into the house
to the loungeroom
and i turned on the light

it was not you who calmed my heart
(though when i think of you i often will be calmed)
it was not you who reached between my ribs and pushed and pulled until i could breathe
no;
that was me.

and here in the summer i sit in my summer dress. i should be partially submerged in the tide.
and i hear your voice and it makes me smile. i have known it for so long that i can't help but feel comforted,
though it pains me to think you are so far away
and i am so far away
and even this far away we are closer than i thought, or you realize.

but still i wish to carve layer after layer of flesh from my bones
if i could be where you are i would show you
the filmy golden tissue that shelters my nerves
i would fold back the skin and glow
so bright you would have to shield your eyes

i would wish that i had the patience you have.
to let the sound come to you in dreams and in fire
and to wait, to see if she will appear between the door and the box of my old records
and stand resplendent and perfect in the half light of your bedroom/recording studio
and it could take years, decades. but you will wait.



this noun is well known, and indiscriminate - you are less than one, more than every one.
i create you and destroy you at my own whim, and you do the same.
i love you, i am jealous of you, i desire you, and i am afraid of you.
there is more to you than our imaginations combined could comprehend.

but this time, i put you aside (in an utterly neutral sense).
i unlocked the door, i opened the window.
i flicked on the switch, i lit the fire.
i shuffled the cards, i counted the numbers.
i stretched and shrunk, i expanded and contracted.
i made the incision, i stemmed the flow.
i grew the cells, i pulled out the hair.
not you.
i breathe.
i beat.
i breathe.
i beat.
i breathe.
i shudder.
i breathe.
i twitch.
i breathe.
i beat.
i breathe.
i flow.
i breathe.
not you,
this time.

i am no bug

rip into me, my hate
i am losing myself again.
don't let the time get sucked into my black black eyes
these darkened teeth disgust me

just the thought just the thought send waves of nausea
i fought i lost i fought i chose but never
(you mind, death professor)

in the mirror my neck looked like it was broken
(but my eyes were open)
in the mirror my neck looked like it was broken
(but my eyes were open)

tear it down, painfully crafted architect
tear it down and i will sink into a
black hiraedd
and the wound appears to fester, despite my clumsy ignorance poultice
it's one of those blind spots,
my arms do not stretch far enough -
so i made a call from the halfway house

you didn't pick up
you didn't pick up
you didn't pick up
you didn't pick up
i was surprised that you didn't pick up

then you picked up
and i am human again and my voice cracked but now is healing
and i am human again after i was made into less than animal
i am human again and i was bug

even now the fleshmemory makes me shudder
not just in disgust, in disappointment
but i am no bug



and the fresh blood will cleanse the wound
and the fresh blood will cleanse the wound

part 2

my soul is spilling out of my eyeballs.

doubt tends to sink in too quickly to comprehend. it digs at your stomach, and you make decisions without consulting the sky first. within a few hours you have thoroughly screwed up 10 months of architecture, painfully rendered. it hits you like nausea, but you don't heave. you just shudder inwardly and pushpushpush on.

so you walk barefoot along the road in the dawning light. three wealthy south africans jog past you, thankfully pretending not to noticed your dishevelled state. the sidewalk is still damp from the night's shower - that's it. you need to wash it off. then sleep. but the waking - there's the difficulty, now.

where to? somewhere else. home, real home, not necessarily a specific bed but specific company. that's what makes it, and will make it better.

but of course. it goes unattended, and festers. with eachandevery day the wound you thought was just a slight nick goes deeper than you could see from where you are. your blood is thick but becoming poisoned. there is no remedy here.


my voice cracks. thesoundsurroundyou. it wells up and overflows, my head tilts back. i am silent, sightless. the crashingjoltingrushingnoise burns the image from my eyelids.


disappointment and disgust mingle like water and oil. they drip down the back of your throat,

where to

part 1 of 2

the thick olfactory ache of half-bloomed jasmine hangs in the air. it reminds me of some point, years and years ago now, back at my mother's house. the beginning of summer. every day i have an odd, unplaceable nostalgia, but by the time i get to the bus stop, it's gone.
i dreamt of you last night. i was handing you jars of plum sauce or wholegrain mustard, about 6 or 7 of them. (you still haven't solidified, your form is still out of my depth of field though you stand beside me, looking down.) my arms twitched involuntarily and a mustard jar slipped out of my hand. i woke up before it smashed.

i'm already up to 3. i have plumbed some of the darkest caves in my memory before 2:40 in the afternoon on a monday. my shoulders are tense, my hearing shuts off as i drift into daydream.

i state independence, for the first time in my life.

oh, distance has a way of making love understandable

for some reason, i always feel like starting blogs or letters or text messages or e-mails with the words, 'i don't really know'. i don't understand. maybe i just have a subconscious need to tell people that i have no clue of what's going on. and no matter how knowledgable or intellectual or fascinating people might be, no one actually does know. and maybe i don't admit it enough - that i am one of those people. i don't really know. i don't understand. i don't get it. i'm confused.
not in the pejorative sense even. it's a neutral statement.


so tonight i met up with alex and bianca and lucy in newtown. they had come over for less than 24 hours, to see conor oberst and the mystic valley band at the enmore theatre and then leave again. back to perth. i wished a little bit that i was going back with them.
anyway, the gig was fucking incredible. conor oberst is - and i don't care what anyone says - the spokesperson for this generation. the gig was exciting, sorrowful, beautiful, angry, destructive, rich, fulfilling... not just the music (which was fucking top notch), but the whole atmosphere the band created. i felt like i could have been sitting under the same mexican stars where they wrote & recorded their album, listening to this group of like-minded(&hearted) friends jamming away. i walked away from it feeling blissful. even now, some of that warmth is still buzzing through me.
so we came back to my dad's empty house (dad, kath & the boys went down south for a night or two and i happened to have a key), and smoked and talked and listened to music. it was so lovely and comfortable to see them again. but of course, daylight savings decides to kick in this morning, so a whole fucking potential hour got stolen. i just returned from putting them in a taxi back to the airport. i am now in a big, empty house, listening to diane cluck or wilco or queens of the stone age or deftones or autechre. i'm not sure. i don't really know.
it might be just lack of sleep, but i feel deflated and misplaced. things are good here, i have made a couple of friends and melissa and i are getting on better than ever, but about 3/4 of my limbs are missing.


my brain is mush. i miss


i let it flood my ears and soak into my skin.
3/4 of a million miles from home
a tenuous thread shimmers from flesh to land to flesh
i stretch it back like an archer
i strum it like i echo the howl
i sew it into my fingertip callouses
i pull it so tight i can't breathe

the thunderstorm brushes past me
it claws at the air just beyond here
i dream its tentative growl would swell into a howl and
drown out muttering insecurity.

notes rebound on the long ivory walls
it would be too much to ask
them to keep it down

and above me;
i crumble
the thread twines and nets itself just in time to catch the last tiny bits
but the supports creak
the edges fray
my fingertipskin begins to drift outwards, ever-expanding reflective ripples
two correlating waves
of dust

for
each fingertip

falls away
10(2)co
sinew
ave



just don't let go of your side of the thread









and i'll learn how to knit with my fingerbones
and you will have a silvery scarf by the winter
it will keep you warm when the waves come

so uh

it got a bit better.

i think it'll be ok, for now.

mmmm.

fucking blag

fuckityfuckityfuckityfuck.
so today was shit.

the shittest so far.

it started ok. i went out, printed resumes, dropped some off, had lunch with dad, dropped off some more resumes. the chat with dad was kind of shit. he always makes me feel guilty. but then i feel like i am kinda wiser for it, which is odd.
then i dropped off my black and white film i've been holding onto since the start of this year, i had forgotten what pictures i had on it. and finally i was getting it processed. but i had a bad feeling even before i left the store. justine, you fucking twat.
anyway, so i go back to bondi junction, drop in some more resumes. while i am in the sustainability store, i get a call from the fotolab guy. my fucking film has been wiped. they put it through colour chemicals instead of black and white.


FUUUUUCK.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK


and i don't get angry at many things. but this, holy shit. i am so fucking upset. i lost it all. i could have done it myself a hundred times over, in fact i don't know why i didn't. but it's fucked now. no way to get it back.

then, some fucking kid at the bus stop jumps at me and i get scared out of my skin. that just irritates me. then i listen to some metal. i get home and melissa is pissed off at me. and that's pretty much continued til now.
i can't do anything right.

so my day is screwed. i don't think liss wants me to stay here anymore. i just want to go home. i know it's just one day and i shouldn't let it get to me, but for some reason i feel like it's just gonna get worse. here, i am supposed to have a fresh start. and be happier. and to get away from shit in perth. but shit likes to follow me. or maybe it's just that i'm shit at life.

i want to curl up in a ball and disappear into the blagosphere. or into my own little imaginary world of juju reiatsu and elspeth riding gahltha into the mountains and i am an awesome musician and me and we are all jamming on some other plane of this 'squdgy little multiverse'.


but, push on, juju. maybe it'll get better. and if it doesn't, get the fuck out of there. that's all there is to it.



i'm out.

-j

faster thanyoucansay

arrrggggghh.


i get so flustered
when i talk to you.
i always end up short of breath because
my sentences are not long enough
for you.
they never could be; i cannot relax any more.
not when i am talking to you.
my reasoning is stretched
i know i will snap if i am called one more time
and subtly forced to explain myself.
i shouldn't have to.
you know my situation.
you know my responsibilities.
you also know how communication can break down
within a half-hour, less.
(we are) sick of being blamed

just because of an error in someone else's information repetition.

so when i see you for lunch tomorrow
i will not pay. you should know this.
and when you hint at me, or attempt to manipulate conversation
i will be blunt and honest and refuse to take it.

thank you. very much. your money does not give you the right to push me around.

vinesveins

my thoughts are as hazy as the thin veil of rain
that shadows this dark city
the walls are bare and neutral watching the single window
reflect no expression
the day has followed through again though again i can
hardly remember when
it slipped into night

the searing pain reaches me with a slight lag
i know i should not forget
when every wish that lies on every eyelash
is less than nothing when caught inside a tiny flickering flame

i remember a dream that may have been real once
the ivy climbs thick on the fence beside the sidewalk
it inverts and reverts as it pleases, buses changing direction to suit
i had to force tears untill the irritation subsided
and i left the antagonist to be caught inside a tiny flame
with a wish tied to his claw
sucked away by a wind that plucked at the leaves, making them
seem as if they might be saluting the darkness that fluttered in my periphery
dragged away by a wind that pulled at my hair and whispered in my ear
until i could not see icouldnothear i could not catch my breath

and it twists into some other vine/vein,
it too may just be a dream now, or as(good)as;

i am not still. no in fact i am anything but
my hips are cold and the wind notices
all is thunder and electricity my skin crawls notunpleasantly the fine hairs on the back of my neck reach for the static air
the wind picks up until the sheer force of it rattles my bones notunpleasantly it twists and
it twists and
it twists and
there is one calm point, in the centre of the spiral that twists and
i lie still there, the wind lies with me
the wind lies to me
it twists and

my breath returns, unwanted
the vines die back/down
with the wind
shadows ripple through the air
it solidifies and falls back into me

(one shadow made of mercury)


notice how the cold seems so much more raw in the city
it sneaks nearer in a similar fashion to nightdaynight
it sucks the bodies' warmth away, it shrivels the leaves
still
on the vines beside me

i've written pages upon pages

trying to rid you from my bones...

internet cafe in bondi. got my green chicken curry, my usb drive, my visual diary...
it's raining in sydney and i like it better this way. i don't want to spend too much money here, and i do have to get all my centrelink shite sorted, so this won't be a long blog.
a bit of aeroplane poetry:

"the darkness is creeping up and
slowly dissolving the light. I
can't help but get an odd
sense of foreboding. I've never
seen anything like this.
halfway across the horizon, the
dark splits the sky and rises
like a wave, a spray of
light is cast into the air. I
can almost feel its salty coldness
on my face.
and i am flying directly
towards it.
it's getting bigger..."


ah. hopefully liss & i will be getting unwired internet soon. no more freaking internet cafes with nerds screaming at each other over WoW any more. joy.

-j

and my travelling companions are ghosts and empty sockets

my stepmum today found old books and photos and misc from a long, long time ago. 15 years or so. suddenly i'm looking at books that i remember, but haven't seen in at least 10 years. drawings from when i was in pre-primary, stories about princesses and sparkling lakes and huge castles, then the aforementioned princess getting shot and luckily she didn't die but she had to go to hospital and, i quote, "the bullet went in 1 centimetre." or acrostic poems that make little to no sense/sound like badly translated engrish. i think i can learn a lot about who i am at my purest from these drawings and writings. i can almost hear my own voice as a child.
i wonder, if bunny could talk, what he would have to say about me. about who i have grown to be.
and i see joshie and sofia and even toby & dylan, and i am so excited about the amazing humans they are/will be. i really hope i can be a good influence on them, get them thinking about the world in a way no one else in their life could. crazy aunty jussie.


...and a part of me is just so fucking eager, beyond even my own previous imaginings, to get out into it all. to travel, to plunge headfirst into cultures so vast and old and exciting and alive, to come back with a song in my heart and a glitter in my eye and to make my friends and family proud. and to give it back - to learn and teach and dance and cry and inspire and be inspired...



and i hope that, when i face the void again (which i know i will many times in this life), i will have the strength of heart & mind to be inspired by it, and not to deny/fear/run away from/try to control it. it makes me sad sometimes when i see people who have let it get the better of them. people perhaps i once loved, or still love, or have the potential to love. i hope those people see/think of me and smile.

(with my eyes mostly closed like a person who knows how to drown)

in sydney.

it's a new moon tonight. apt.
it just hit me before, when i was in the kitchen. i am not going back to perth for a long time. not an amazingly long time, but the longest i've ever been out of perth.
i'm giving up a lot of things and putting some aside for the moment. picking up new things.

6 months. if i'm not out of sydney by the end of february, that's it. using my frequent flyer points to go to [insert exotic destination here]. i'm not getting stuck again.
then... *shrug*
hopefully i'll end up somewhere fun with awesome people and lots of art and culture and life and music (which, of course, is an essential part of all of the above).

you've gone away enough - mirah

If the light takes you in will you know where you've been all this time
At the edge of a cliff you could almost just slip down the side
When there's so much to do don't you wish you could make up your mind?
But it know it's elusive, it grows and it burns you inside

With my eyes mostly closed like a person who knows how to drown
I'll squint at the sun and my shoulders will pray for the ground
Let's throw something over, imagine it's us falling down
And thinking of death we will watch without making a sound

But it's just the way you are you don't have to be afraid
The way you look at the stars and how you think that they were made
The motion will never stop turning the night into the day
You've gone away enough when will you decide to stay

My trouble with everything always is nothing's just right
Just to figure out nothing could keep you awake half the night
Not to know what you want is a terrible thing you should fight
You just suffer for the face of the dark while you wait for the light

look at us now, we're all so lost

shaking our heads at the thought of a god

strangers inside their own homes

(between the scotch and the feedback is where i rot
trying to make my blood clot)

shit. this time tomorrow i'll be on my way to the airport. everything needs to be packed, clean, organized. i don't want to deal with it. uni shit. work shit. i want to record and hang out with my friends. but it's my own fault, this all could have been done weeks ago. once again, she leaves it to the last minute.

(you're not the type that we could forget
you'll see our shadows on the edge of the sky)

butterfly skin akin so delicate

tonight should be good.

you'll see our shadows on the edge of the sky

nande?

2 days now. i haven't packed. booked dinner for tomorrow night though, i guess that's something.
there aren't enough hours in a day, i have decided. or maybe it's just that i am severely disorganized. yeah, that sounds more likely.
i grow more and more dissatisfied with myself the longer i put everything off. but there will be an aeroplane that i will have to catch, and everything must be at least mostly sorted by then.
anyway. i need to find the other two books to take back to uni. or face $80 fines per book.

time, time, time.

so desu ne.

4 days.

so desu ka?

these are easily some of the best days/nights of my life thus far.

10 days

so i left my visual diary in dominic's car last night because i was really fucking drunk. didn't throw up though. i drank a lot of scotch in a very short period of time. (happy birthday to you.)

now my head is a fried egg/brick/cotton wool.
i wrote some really cool stuff in my visual diary too, which i was going to write up onto here, but of course probably won't be getting that back til sunday. i should probably start packing my stuff up properly. i still haven't exactly decided what i'm taking with me, but i have a feeling that dad and kath will think it's too much. fuck it. i wish i could take my record player and records.
definitely bringing my jeff buckley sheet music...
now. i have to go shower and get ready to head off again. hopefully my head will be a bit clearer by the time i step back into that harsh sunlight... agh...

i'm out.
-j

agent dale cooper

i just finished watching twin peaks.

my mind is exploded. stuck in a concrete plot. it's not thick, it's actually solidified.
but... cooper... oh god.

mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy... a kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?

need... more... lynch. *twitch twitch*

reikon/i (senbonzakura)

winter into a soft autumn
as the tree-stump held me
as the sun began to sink
i picked the sakura
and perhaps that same slow susurrus
will whisper me away

i will not be here to watch them fall.
i will rest on the edges of the (whirlwind/riptide)
as they separate and scatter,

senbonzakura.

my heart aches and is dragged down
potential seeping into my itching bones
potential gnawing my fingernails down to the quick
potential buzzing behind my eyes

the icy lines are splintering
they are blue and grey and
reflect bright when the sun hits them
they sink down into my (reikon)
they tell you so many things and
when (i/kon) leave them they will scatter


senbonzakura.

my fingertips are dusty.

my feet are calloused and worn,
the left aches -
same slow beat as my heart -
the whisper of blood in my ears -

and when the (whirlwind/riptide)
pulls me back upwards
the oceanrain will leave my flesh full
spin and drag and heave me back upwards
just to spit me out, wet and broken
i will not hear myself hit the [sakura/reikon/chi]
for the blood surging:


spill and scatterstain,



senbonzakura

there is a fishtank in this internet cafe

so i don't know what i want for lunch.
fuckin' dilemma.

i have not that much money. i just ran into travis' best friends. i feel oddly clean and displaced. i don't want to write any poetry right now. i'm going to read my book in the sun and probably smoke a cigarette. i won't be leaving perth until the 30th now.

i get to see my sister on friday.
i have a big gig on friday, too.

i'd better leave before i get charged more than it's worth.
i want to listen to my new record...

i have no idea what i really want.

-j

takkun...?

nails on the ceiling, little [strings/wires?] netting outwards
you are telling me things i do not know; you say i can find them there
(in the web) if i look hard enough and follow the lines to each [nail/destination/connectingpoint?]

...

spiralling up, like
the inside of a shell
or
a spiralstaircase

whitefire/electriclight

wake up;
[we/feline] yawn at the same time.

the days stretch and contract, we [swim awkwardly/stumble blindly] in
the messy wake of heartbreak

but the forces speak of choices
that [i/you] must make as well as [you/me]

...

never knows best.

L11

so here i am again, back in the library at curtin... i need to defer (very last minute!!) but i am procrastinating. my mind is elsewhere.
gig tonight. quite a big one, too, supporting blackmilk before they go on tour. mmm.

i have no more words. i've written a lot of stuff lately but in my visual diary instead of here. it's more tangible. plus, i learnt my lesson after writing the most brilliant fucking thing everrrrrrr when i was baked in sydney and teh internets disconnected and didn't publish or save. epic fail.

-juju.

also: my kayo dot album came. but of course my fucking record player is fucking fucked so i can't fucking play it.
it looks nice though. i hugged the it for a bit.

grraaaargh

son of a fucking bitchfuck. my record player's needle was assfucked by some wanker when i was in sydney. i just tried to play my new gy!be album, and some kyuss, and neither of them fucking worked because the needle is dead and gone and lying in a pool of its own vomit in the gutter of an empty brooklyn street in the rain. and that makes me sad as well as angry. not a good combination.

1 week 4 days now.
i keep missing my buses.

but it's all right, it's ok... i have good tasty musics for the bus/train ride to freo.

mmm.

badly rolled cigarette birthday

new blog. http://badlyrolledcigarettebirthday.blogspot.com
whole lot of random scribblings by myself and chester and jesse.


also:

my life has truly come full circle. on my 19th birthday. the transition period is now in a transition itself.
infinite possibility.

potential.

i am a liminal space with no boundaries or meaning.
euphoria/diaspora/epiphany?

stream of consciousness (dam)

it is not important
(the take absorb give inside outside barrier breaking pixel placement)

what is important is the fact that now you know it is only in the upper air
it is not too far for your mind to reach.
nothing is much further away than there.

lapse backwards

it'll do 'til the mess gets here

so here i am, watching no country for old men with my dad and my stepmum. this time tomorrow i will be on a plane back to perth.

(new dishwashers, air vents, stinging lower lip.)

i miss the dawn.

i am leaving.

and

fuck. i miss

i was just reading michela's old msn spaces blog. from before guy died. from when alex and i were together and there was drinnking and smoking and general awesomeness on a weekendly basis and there was climbing into empty bathtubs fully clothed and gin and it was g, a, m, b, a, j and that was all that we needed and fuck fuck FUCK i want those days back more than i have ever wanted anything EVER and i hatehatehate the fact that there is no chance in hell that will happen and the love is all dried up and obligatory and musty now and fuck.
what is this flesh? this blood? what is it? what do i do with it now? undirectable hatred and fear and longing and sadness is spilling out, out of this fleshthisblood. fuck fuck fuck. fuck. fuck fuck. fuck.
who were you?
why was i so fucking naive?
it is OUT OF MY CONTROL
i have lost CONTROL
i am out
i am lost

all spinning and dizzydancing and oblivion.
i fucking miss you more than i ever knew i could miss anything and i need you to not be gone anymore. i am begging now. you can, i know you can, you can drag it all back and i will swallow my words and do it all over again except better this time. there is so much i needed to tell you and so much i needed to hear. i am losing them. i am losing them too.
it is OUT OF MY HANDS
my hands are empty

andiknownothingbutthesmellofmyowntearsnow
i have lost it.

jawtensionstingtear

shinyshinyteeth

hey man. romeo is

romeo is

okay okay. so my heart is beating a little slower than before. my eyes are hazy and i slip to the ground with ease. standing back up again is more the issue here.

so i think and i think until my brain fuzzes into rewind mode, until i retract and refuse to reply.

you put me in this state.

you stretch my resources outwards and sideways and you twist me inside out.

and i am getting offers from the other side of the world where you are standing on your head

i am tempted, so tempted to take them.

but i don't know if i have it in me.

comewithmecomewithmehere maybe?

no i am not talking to you, no i am talking to the trees that drop their unseen seeds
and the ground swallows them up i am watching from beneath the dirt. i do not know these sproutlings.
they are pushing the soil further into me

and the trees drop these seeds so that they can be free.
i wish i could be just as strong as the trees.
i wish i could spend all my time with the trees.



i'm sick of this all being blamed on me.
sicksicksick

static line landscape

while the world was busy sleeping


yr sister and her son fell asleep on the couch
you were thinking about this curtailed trip
the alternates that place you
came spiralling back down
all too fast. i got dizzy.
i threw my head back, and i let the waves of nausea roll
roll
roll

static line landscape that is your homeplace
echoes and interrupts like yr burgeoning sickness
the expectations split the spectrum
into fields of grey
the antenna is faulty
my thoughts buzz and crackle. scrolling lines disorient the view






...(unfinished)

from newtown internet cafe, with love

so here i am. spending all my money in newtown. listening to neil finn through new headphones, wearing a new shirt and new suspenders. new ring on my finger, 3 bags of new stuff beside me.
i'm staying with my sister at her place in rose bay. i wish i could live there, and have all my friends live near me too...
idealism gets you nowhere justine.

i'm getting increasingly excited about india. talked to chester today, just got me thinking about it all over again. dad didn't seem too keen, but, as liss said, he's just pointing out problems that might need dealing with - that's what dads do.
but man. nothing can stop me. i'm going to go busking and work and sell all my unwanted stuff in markets/on ebay and save up heaps of money and be able to stay for as long as i want. fuck i'm excited.

anyway. this internet cafe is chewing up my train fare home.

-j

splitting raindrops

i am in sydney, finally.
third time lucky. bits and pieces are splitscattering around me. i'm catching threads as my right hand moves, my head itches. it's 3:37 here. i am disorientated.
as soon as i get here, i am interrogated. i have to leave later on today. i cannot settle. i am unsettled.
my skin is playing up too. my whole being seems wrong, out of balance... receptors are playing up.
(de ja vu all over again)


it's a strange desire that keeps me from resting. there are so many bits in this house. so many small pieces of paper and cds and books and toys and useless boxes of bits. ready to be split. i want to take them all and scatter them. i want to take all the thoughts from my father's head and pin them up on a wall made out of the cellophane and dusty documents and filed decomposing artworks that line this house. i want to read what my sister writes. i want to enfold in arms and scent and sleep with breath on the back of my neck.

my computer is overheating. i should probably go to bed now, early start.
goodnight.

anniversary of an uninteresting event

no more gold lights
for the queen earth
to keep you warm
in yr kingdoms
high on the waves that you made for us
but not since you left have the waves come

the bar is dead
and the rocket's rain
is keeping you wet
in yr deathbed
so high on the waves that you made for us
but not since you left have the waves come

have the waves come

on the run

heading east tomorrow night.
a few good weeks of guitar-ing, market-ing and making own clothes (ing). i can't wait to see my sisters, and their kids, and to hang out in newtown, and to catch the train up to newcastle, and catch the train back down, and go have coffee in haberfield and go out at night with melissa.
and take photos and
write poems and

paint pictures and

i should probably get ready for the gig, have some dinner and stuff.

-j

islands (let go if you will)

my body sinks
the blue rises up and over
my ears
i hear
a beat, beat
beat
it echoes through veins and bones.

steam lifts off the soft-lit lake
the islands fleshy and dense
displace

my mind falls over the edge
the five suns flicker and
skin dries, buckles, peels off easily
in waves
little shivers fan out from the base of my skull
and my right thigh, up

the islands quake as if
at any moment
they will be split asunder

beneath their reflections
my heart beats thunder, thunder

the water grows colder
my heart shudders and bursts open,
deep waves ripple outwards -
my body disintegrates -

i watch as islands drown
my eyes with them

countless times

no matter what it looks like
all i bring you is love

oh here i am again, edgy as fuck, just waiting for something to come tip me over the edge.
i'm restless, i don't know what i am doing or what to do. i need to finish too many things, i just want it all to be over.

tuesday.
tuesday.
tuesday.

even if that essay doesn't get finished. even if my review goes horribly. it will be done.
this sort of pressure is supposed to ignite my motivation.
instead, i want to watch buffy.
i want to ignore it all and get lost in the sexual tension. in the demons and alternate dimensions and magic. i am actually completely addicted to it.
that could be really fucking depressing if i think about it.
*avoid*


(but it doesn't calm me.
not like
my teacher died
or the telepathic desert.

not like
she said
or keeping an eye on the world going by my window.

and thoughts are ushered away.
things are so lush and large here, i like it here more.

i need to get here, as soon as possible.)


you fade from me like you know i'm dying, you fade from me like i'm already gone
(already bones and born again)


i think the most comforting thing about this is that i know i have nothing to hide here, there is nothing to judge me and no pretenses to hold up, i can be as much of a wanker or dickhead or bitch or depressed little girl or geek or metalhead or indie kid or buffy addict as i want to be. no questions asked. i am sick of trying to be interesting or deep or intelligent or stupid. fuck it. i can call it what i want and i can start new paragraphs where i want and i can tell them all to get fucked if i want.
i'm going to india, fuck it.


and then these pixels will dissolve into the ether and

born again

hat wears you

i truly do enjoy getting undressed after a party
still being excessively drunk
and preparing myself for a good ol' dose of buffy the vampire slayer.
yes, blogger. you may judge me.
but i am impervious, you see, as i
have just returned from a joyous occasion
on which i rendered myself free.

there are complications, you find
there are always new things to be defined
but i do realize that these things will resolve themselves
if you give them time

there are possibilities, there are
confusions, frustrations, lies
fear. but if you would be so kind
to yourself
you'd let them fly.



i drank alot of beer tonight.


(post-statement: man i was drunk when i wrote this. damn.)

/chin

and suddenly
it all swings back
i have been living in an alternate universe for 7 months
or i have just begun living in an alternate universe
either way i am fresh and alive

thanks to the blood
and the conversation
and the expensive bottle of red that you shared with me
and the design deal you sent to me
and the joy of bread and cheese
thanks to the thunder
and the rolling conversation
and the symmetrical bloodstains
and the pattern on my stockings
thanks to the new job
and the end of day cigarette
and the softer smiles as i leave the car
thanks to the arms you put around me
and the skin i smelt

but mainly, thanks to the blood

it shudders and gives up one last beat (she said)

you don't understand what i said

(and the dog runs up with a heart in its mouth)

i said

(deposited pulsing at my feet)

no, no, no,

(blood still ushering from its valves)

you're wrong

despondence dance

it's more of a shudder.
an inside shudder.

and i am doing it all wrong
and i have screwed it all up royally, of course.
because that is how my feelings lean
with the string tighteningtightening higher

and i cannot be fucked
dragging my feet in the gutter
drooping shoulders and overcast eyes.
you look nothing like you once did.

you see nothing like you once did.

you believe nothing like you once did.

you love nothing like you once did.

you care for nothing like you once did.

you hate nothing like you once did.

you are nothing like you once did.

and yr bird is green

but you can't see me, you can't see me


this is supposed to be the comfort zone. i am supposed to be able to come home to support. i get the opposite. i am whinging, i know. it's not as bad as you say it is justine, it's not their fault justine, that's just the thing. i get home and it's my fault. instantly. and you say things have changed. and your bird can sing.

and you're lying.


oh, and i am getting sick and frustrated and... no, not getting. gotten. it has been here for a while now, festering away. but suddenly it's in the back of my throat and it comes on like a slow storm. i hear the voices i feel no love from them. they do not reach out to me.
this is the price you pay for tuning in (fortuning in).


tune out
(but you don't hear me
you don't hear me)

do you ever

i do

ok, so here comes the jealousy. all tingly and sticky. in the stomach, up the spine, behind the jaw.

it's me.
it's not the fact that you wanted to put 'everything you had' into it, and you couldn't at that point in time.
it's me.
not skinny enough. don't show enough leg. don't have nice flowy hair. too many stretch marks. stretch marks full stop. short nails. double chin. calloused feet. breasts too big. breasts not perky enough. chubby arms. don't always smell nice. not enough wit. not good enough in general.

it's like, once you got to know me, i wasn't as interesting or beautiful as you thought i was.

shame, hey?


ok, jealousy has passed.
i've moved on. fare thee well.


(feel like you've broken someone's heart)

prayer to the moon

i pray,
dear goddess that is the moon.

may i grow tall
strong
joyful
free

while your light does embrace me.

i pray,
dear goddess that is the moon.

may you protect me
and light my path
may you reflect in me
and i, reflect in you,

O goddess that is the moon.

(O Divine mother, our hearts are filled with darkness.
Please make this darkness distant from us and allow illumination within us.)

धन्यवाद

unsettled

while the world was busy waking i slept in through yr epilogue of dreaming

my stomach is unsettled. i caught the bus up, and wrote a poem on the way:




my arms feel so heavy
i am forcing myself to
cry.
maybe the world could stop
spinning for just a few
minutes so i can stand
back up?

not likely.

sad fat girl sitting on the back of the bus
too detached to shed a tear
and the world is too big
and it is drowning me
your arms comforted me
maybe one day i can just
stay there
i would drag
my arms up and around you
if it meant i could stay
there

my eye is twitching
finally it is wet

i just wanted to
be in your body
to float inside you
or just to find you
somewhere waiting

but my cheeks are flushed with
fever
to tell me you could love me, I
break you apart and put
you back together
you do not fit

but i do

shivering, I think I'm

sick

my shadow
moves before i do
I sit, hardly breathing
my shadow hits the bitumen
splits and scatters behind me

my shadow pushes in the
pins, tingling fingertips

my shadow opens up my
chest with his bare hands
and cups my ribcage
tenderly
I am cemented to the
spot. I am spinning at
the speed of sound. I am
not human.

the sickness rises.

the memory perspires

my shadow smothers my mouth my
nose and stands my
hair on stilts
the separate strands teeter
precariously

you swing in my mind
and i die vicariously

my shadow speaks to me
in tongues
i can not move

i can not lift my

arms

my shadow lifts my

stomach

and it splits
and it scatters
behind me
it is gone








that pretty much sums up how i feel tonight. i think it's something to do with the moon. i feel wierd.

is a place at the bottom of the well

in order to love graham
you must love the beez

in order to treat graham the way she deserves
you must treat the beez the way she deserves

in order to be balanced and caring, the beez
you must appreciate graham.

but you also must appreciate the beez.

i love graham and i love the beez.

i'm only sleeping

stay in bed
float upstream...

i am well and truly worn out. listening to the cure live in paris. my body aches, my brain is scrambled. i am really looking forward to bed.
but i realize that my world is coming together. slowly but surely. i am sensing the world around me eagerly, soaking it all in and breathing it out constantly. i met many beautiful people last night and got to know so many people properly that i wanted to know before but never got the chance. we were on another planet (Planet Xanadu) and we were communicating with our antennae, tuning in to each other like radio stations.
we are spectacular post-modernists.
i slept through the day.
we have officially warped the time-space-continuum.
(officially, of course, referring to the law of Planet Xanadu)




it's the place to be kids.
it's gonna go down in history.


and on that note:

goodnight. (i think. who knows what time has decided is now.)

justine

rain is a perfectly sculpted garden of wetness

today i was inspired. utterly inspired, for the first time in so long. and even though i didn't really do that much, my eyes were open and my heart was too. finally.
i was listening to neutral milk hotel on the bus on my way to uni, sunglasses on. the tint on my sunnies are a kind of dark yellow, and they make all the greens seem amazingly green and all the blue seem kinda green too, actually. it's similar to late afternoon light, that point in the day when i feel like the spectrum is overflowing and bright. but this was different, more... dark? no. kinda... rustic? no. it felt like i was in a 70's video clip or something. maybe early 90's would be more appropriate. and the fuzz and hum of nmh in my ears combined with the most vibrant and deep green of the trees made my spirit hungry for everything that this universe has to offer. i devoured it all, from behind a bus window. i soaked in the colours and the sounds and the emotions of everything around me. a woman was crying as she got off at oats street, her sunnies were lightly tinted and her lips were made up. she walked strangely and her mullet-sporting man-friend didn't seem too comforting. for some reason i felt a loss. to be honest, my instinctual conclusion was that she had just had an abortion... i'm not sure if that was the case but it seemed like it. i wanted to look her in the eyes, i didn't want to say anything or do anything but that. so that i could show her that somebody in this world had compassion for her, even if they had never met and probably never would again after that moment.
but i didn't take off my sunglasses, i just sat there and soaked in her sadness. even when she was well out of sight i still felt her sadness lingering.

i think i am tuning my receptors, slowly but surely. i am picking up on other people, on new ideas, on new frequencies completely. some that i never even knew were there.
hopefully i can maintain this feeling for long enough to do all the things i want to do, at least for the time being.

no, i must go to bed. trial for a job tomorrow. new frequencies.

the epiphalon

anything
anything
anything

everything
everything
everything

is
is
is

divine
divine
divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

divine

the ones who left me empty and ready to be filled again

and i know that if i could see you
then you'd be walking like this too

i am irrationallyirritable. i haven't had a cigarette today, for the first time in quite a while. maybe this is my withdrawal.
i am so frustrated with my father. i need money to pay back lucy and bianca and tim, and it still hasn't been transferred through. i am still $49 in debt to my bank and because i have to learn to 'budget' my dad is being stingy. if i knew i wouldn't be getting money, i wouldn't be borrowing money or spending anything much apart from on essentials. but i promise people that i will pay them back by a certain date and the money does not come through by then. so people stop trusting me. thanks dad. i would rather be forced to get a job and know when my money is coming through.
so fuck it. tomorrow when i go out to get ingredients for worldpeacecookies i am dropping my resume in as many places as i can.

there's an ever-present static. the atmosphere unravelling til you recieve my love.

who is this mysterious 'you', diane? and, for that matter, justine?
i give it up.
i'm gonna stop looking/aching. i am going to stop bothering with everything around me and start properly fixing myself up. mind body heart spirit. time for a bit of a detox, a bit of a re-shaping. not to mention a re-tuning of my little receptor thingys.

all the voices around me are irritating me no end. i need to get out one day soon. i have my music but then there is an undercurrent of pure frustration. i need to get rid of it.

so either i'm going to blossom into something amazing and free and in tune, or i'm going to go on a huge massacre.


but it is no big deal, hey what else is there to do
than set your sights on something and just pull your tangles through

my footprint is cast in cement on the sidewalk

the ice may be melting

but the hills are still high

up and over

skin surfaces still
grows through
map-points and
hair and scar tissue

your teeth on edge
your feet shake and
your jaw ache said

i am determined this time
i am on fire this time
i am your fire eyes

your hands on head
your lips twist and
your lightning says

i am determined this time
i am on fire this time
i aim your fire eyes
at the moon

and i talk to her
and i will not stop
pulling the skin up
and over your lies
and the wind replies

i am determined this time
you are on fire my child
aim your fire eyes at my sky

open her up my child

pull out the bugs and the flies
drag the windingtwistingtape
up and over your lies

open her up my child

dig down the pulsing bitter lines
dig down into the synapse sighs
dig down and take hold until you know

open her up my child

i will give you your thunderstorm tonight


your head on land
your heart in your hands
your jaw ache said

you're on that road
i'll keep pushing and
your lightning says

open her up my child
the wind replies, open her up my child
the wind replies open her up,
my child
dig down and take hold til you know

bright tomorrow

okay.
i'm not sure if it's the fact that i've been awake all night, or that i am actually starting to become in/sane again, but certainly feel damn good this morning.
i had a bit of a resolution/epiphany/thingo. and i know what i want. because i know what makes me happy and what doesn't, and i figure if i can do what makes me happy, while letting other people do what they do, and survive all at the same time, why shouldn't i?

so
i'm going to.



wish me luck

okay, let's talk about magic (satellite lollipop for the last true misfit)

i can't take this anymore
you can't take this anymore
i can take you away

i can't stop wandering
through these ghost ridden streets
my footprint is cast in cement on the sidewalk
that glistens with broken glass
cause you have walked where i have walked
you have seen the things i've seen
you have been a hundred times or more
the person i have been

i can't take this anymore
you can't take this anymore
i can take you away

i'm trying to remember the distance of the clock hands
i'm trying to remember just how long
it took me to realize that
i was born into a world where i don't belong
but i can take it
if you can take it
i can take this if you can take me away

i can take it
if you can take it
if you can take me away

i can take it
if you can take it
i can take you away

dance!music!satellite?

i am suddenly inspired again.

make you wanna smile

i can't believe it's come to this
i can't believe that nobody knows
where it's at


i want to be in sydney with my family.
i want to be able to call melissa and meet her after work.
i want to treat myself well, i want to get healthy.
i want to thrive creatively and stop getting stuck in ruts.


i want to make up my mind.
i want to wake up my mind.
i want to be the one to make you want to smile

night owl

it's verrrry chilly here by the window. the fact that it is about 4:20am may account for some of the chill.
i may/may not have just been having a 5 hour long friends marathon. i must clean the house later on today. the cat is still here but we fed it and it was sleeping on the couch but we can't have it inside so i had to put it outside and i feel bad about it being outside because it's cold. and i am tired. and i wish i was rachel and you were ross. why is my life like a soap opera in the bad bits but not in the good ones?
annnnnnd tomorrow/today i am going to have coffee with a man who i may/may not have been falling in love with not long ago, and his ex-girlfriend. which should actually be great as they are both lovely people, only it is an odd situation. not as odd as travis and myself (and hollie), but still odd.

i do not particularly love my life right now.

band is good though. may be getting a good job. i did buy the new fuck buttons LP today... so that kinda makes it all ok i guess.

i feel like a cup of tea.

i'm gonna go curl up in bed now.

night

limbless

i found a black cat in my backyard, he had no collar.
he was lovely and looked hungry and i brought him some tuna.
it was starting to rain so i put his tuna under cover, but not inside because we have a rent inspection soon and we're not allowed cats.
i sat on the couch and watched him eat, he was very hungry and had 2 cans of tuna to himself.
then i lay down and patted him for a while, it began to rain very heavily.
i began to fall asleep.
just before i dozed off, i felt my new friend jump up onto the couch and curl up on my feet. he was warm.

i slept there for five hours.
i woke up and had to go inside because it was cold and slightly damp. i had to leave him outside, which makes me a bit sad.
i hope i see him again soon. he made me happy. i was having a bad evening.


it's starting to rain again

they carry the bodies of the withered in their mouths

i am watching a little group of birds play in the tree outside my window. my housemate is making custard at 7am. i should be making my lunch too.
but the air is so rich right now! it's been raining, and it reminds me of long conversations with my father. the smell of the cold wet soil is hanging just by my window, and i know it's letting the chill in but that doesn't matter.
i have so many things to do. i have to finish uni assignments, i have to decide where i want to be on the planet, i have to catch a bus and i have to think hard about a lot of things.
but that's okay. when i can wake up and breathedeep and just generally enjoy the wonder in the world i think i'll be okay, no matter where i am.

your head a splode

fuck buttons are a fucking amazing band.
i am infinitely excited about Street Horrrsing, their new album.

wow.

you say you want a family

your eyes have gone stale.
behind them; an ache
that beats and pulses unsteadily
that slows the healing time substantially.
that speeds up the computer's clock
and puts you at least an hour in front.

do not apply pressure;
it causes pain.
that will, of course, distract me
and my collapsing body
but it will hurt,
and it hurt enough the first time.

your smile is dry. not your eyes. your honesty is too far behind you now.
here is my issue here is my problem here is the verdict:

i must go.
the defining lines will never form.
they will always only exist behind dappled translucence
and crisscrossing blue wires inside
they are the closest thing to what you have become;

tapes

when i went to sydney i brought the tape recorder and recorded myself talking, singing, doing random things like having lunch with one of my sisters etc.
it was supposed to be something like a diary, and i am just beginning to listen to it from the start. should be interesting.

i just wanted to see how my thoughts were progressing as i talked to different people and gained more and more perspective.
(fuck my whole house is shaking... there are some workers behind the house, at the school, digging up the little swamp thing. they are there almost every day and the machines are loud and make our house shake. actually shake. like there's an earthquake or something.)
also it was a way to record the songs that i wrote. listening to the first song now.

homesweetfuckingjesushome

i do not belong here.

this is it, it unfolds

it's 5am.
somehow, i haven't slept yet.

i wrote the fifth song,
it's called 'less heartbeat'.

good(night/morning?)

because

you belong to no one
you're so easy to be around


going back to perth tomorrow night.
i don't really want to. but i really need to work all this out.
i need some sort of re so lu ti on .

tomorrow i am going looking for a 2nd hand copy of the Diary of Anne Frank and maybe the Qu'ran.

haven't written the fifth song yet
but i will.

freedoms of delusion (&beginbroken)

so
much
baggage.

physical, emotional, mental, spiritual


the fourth song:


every stone dragging, heavier and heavier
my eyes are drooping.
my heart is sagging
my mouth is aching with the weighty words i'm carrying.

they are unspoken.
but my heart is taking its time
to begin breaking
to begin broken
and ready to be fixed again.

not by some lover
or an old and oldest friend
my heart is ageing
while i watch, impatient

it's getting to be too much
to take it all on board
to remember each and every syllable
of each and every silent word

and with each an every day
i gather more and more
and i bury myself
and i hide and i hoard
records and books and new knitted jumpers
with each new day i hide a new wonder
but i pull off the scabs
it itches, it's infected
i have never allowed myself a chance to be reflected

in some quiet river flowing through a city full of life and dreams
instead i'm packed into a box that is bursting at the seams
with things i don't need

oh i am so afraid
i am scared to death
of opening my wings
and stretching out my claws
of releasing this held breath
these lines have become so stale and settled in my mouth

i close my eyes
i must let them float
from me
from me
from me
from me
from me

morning

i woke up at 12:37am. it's now 2:40am. i fell asleep at 5:30 in the afternoon and no one woke me up. so now i am wide awake and i already wrote a song and i'm not tired.
grr.

though i do love this time of morning. i might force myself to nap for another 2 hours then get up at 5 and do some uni homework.

hmmmmmm.
goodnight/morning

trying to find some beautiful place to get lost

i'm hopefully going to newtown tomorrow and spending lots of money on books and vinyls and awesome clothes and presents for people. that is my intention anyway.
also, i have been writing a song every night since i've been here... that makes 2 songs now. it's fun and something i haven't really tried before, forcibly dragging a tune and some words out of my head. but it's good. plus, last night me and my sister were quite crunk so words seemed to work better together than usual. whether they still work well now that i am sober is another question entirely.
anyway, an excerpt from the song i wrote last night:

find the limit
pushitpushit
find the nihilistic
pushitpushit
find the neon
pushitpushit
light the neuron
pushitpushit
find the narcissist
pushhimpushhim
find the lark
pushhimpushhim
light the dark
o pushit
find the ark(arc)
pushitpushit

kill each other some more please

, and born again

things are so lush and large here

long plane flight. lots of gameboy. diane cluck. boogiepop phantom soundtrack. radiohead.
about 10 minutes of sleep. bad aeroplane food. bad aeroplane beer.
but i am here, and needing to reboot. preparing myself for the "stay here for this&this&this&this reason" and all the reasons make sense but my mind was made up before i left thankyou i appreciateitbut
it is my home.

for now, anyway.

hmm.

doing my best to counterfeit some blues

i want it to be raining
i am leaving for sydney at 4:15 this afternoon
QF 566 terminal 2 reference: ZK4BI3
and the sea rushes in, into my world

post-artist's statement;

...for no reason
[insert:]
the left wrist only, of course, as the right is tattooed and precious



also:

"your last thought was of your mother. the way you used to help her hang out the washing, in the afternoon sun. you would hand her pegs, and she would tell you to put on a hat. she would be wearing her pale blue cotton hat and her black wayfarer sunglasses. you would tell her about your day at school, and how nobody there notices or cares for you. how you must walk around the yard at lunchtime and find somewhere for you and your imagination to eat lunch. she would say, don't worry honey, they don't matter. your mummy loves you. your slow sister loves you. your stepbrothers probably love you too. your stepdad loves you, even though he hits you sometimes if you don't go to sleep at night and stay up too late reading. your dad loves you, even though he is thousands of kilometres away. and your sisters over east love you. but your mummy loves you, i can tell you that first hand.
you know that if he could he would come down from the clouds and bring you toast. and drive you around in his beaten up car and feed you cigarettes and scotch. and you would pass out in his car next to him. and it would be okay, and your heart would still beat beat beat beat beat without realizing this whole time his didn't. but that doesn't matter. he would say, they don't matter. i love you. i care about you. but you will have to go home and push on, starfish. i can't keep you here in my car forever, watching the city lights glowdeathpollution from above. you must zigzag your way back down, slowly, but surely. i'll see you sometime later.
your last thought was of your mother, and the way you used to help her hang out the washing. you would hand her pegs, and tell her about your day at school. and she would say, they don't matter. i love you. i love you. i love you."

the bodies obtained, the bodies obtained

where will it end?

all you do is talk

your lucky words don't bleed































but i do

learn to swim!

sometimes i get really excited about the end of the world.
all that destruction. i mean, ultimate, epic destruction... possibly the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine.
maybe i've been listening to too much Tool.

...(no such thing)


it's days like this, clear blue skies, warmth, a pleasant breeze, that make me want to see ash falling from the sky. preferably a black sky.
that happened once. i was living in the hills a few years ago and there was a huge fire near my boyfriend of the time's house. literally just down the road. and there were these huge rock quarries in the middle of the bush that burnt down that we always used to walk through... a couple of days after the fires i was there, and we went for a walk through the then dead bush. the sky was dark and in parts a deep red. ash was slowly falling on our heads and eyelashes. everything was completely blackened, except the rock walls of the quarry. and i sat in there and looked up for a while. everything was so still and perfect and beautiful and dead.

i guess that's when i started admiring the destruction of things. i kinda hate it too, though. i hate the way the majority of the world hate it. i hate the way people get miserable if it rains. the way a 'nice day' can only be a sunny one. i guess it's just how they're brought up to think.

sometimes i just want a huge fire to rage through this part of the world. destroy every material thing i have. reduced to ashes and twisted plasticglassmetal.

hmmm.

but of course, even after a fire things begin to grow again. obviously if it killed any animals or anything they wouldn't grow back, but the plant life does... and eventually more animals show up. but the apocalypse... human life would be over. beautiful, utterly beautiful.

sometimes i wish i held that destructive power

againagagain

hard-hitting
the smoke has gotten stuck in my jaws
it's bubbling back there, and aching
and i kinda wish i had stayed

where i could wander off into the night safely
and before you went to bed you would notice me gone
but they wouldn't know

so i will
fuck it
i think i will just disappear anyway
i don't want to listen to you fucking
i don't want to see the smiles on your faces or hear how exhausted you are
i can't be fucked forcing myself to laugh anymore

it's getting to the point where i am afraid i will end up like him
just stuck in this windowless room this dark greypainted brick
only being consoled by myself
stuck in the sickly sweet syrup of everyone else's happiness
stuck in the glue that sticks everyone else's hearts to wood
a layer of varnish, you're done
shiny as the back of the cyborg eyes

so why is it that i constantly listen for people walking past my window, only a few metres between us
the dead grass and black concrete and then me
and i hear a laugh a dog bark - a reminder that
they can see in my window and they could just decide then and there to throw a brick
or shoot me through the whitemesh
and i would disappear into the carpet, a drying scatterstain

the skin peels back, more ache than sting
and the skin dries and forms snowlikeflakes
also disappearing into carpetflesh

all i need is someone to hold my head and watch me as my eyes roll back
as my skin buckles and tears
as my fingers shiver one by one by one by

deepnight

i could dissolve

just as long as i stop expanding

i arrived here in the middle of a dream. the walls were just thin enough for my




i just woke up; i'm not sure what i'm doing here now. like falling asleep
and waking upside down.
i used to somehow make my way to the other end of the bed during the night
i'd wake feeling so disorientated.
that's how i feel now.
my mind is struggling, still groggy, for a reason why i am in this position.
everything looks so foreign from this angle.

i would collapse now, if i wasn't already sitting down.
all these nerve endings and sinews and hair follicles are hardly worth
however much you were prepared to pay.

i wish i felt human.

something make me
a few beaded lines rise up
but i can see them and they don't look like they belong to me
even though i know
and i felt it

and instantly the body reacts
but not my body

i go and pollute myself
againagagainagain

acoughagainaloss

acloseafurther
away

my words become nightmares in themeslves they confuse even me
and you will not come to talk to me
and i know you can see but you can't be fucked
me, less so

somenightsoon i will just sink into the sheets and disappear

beat

now that I've calmed down
my heart beats so steady
you could set your watch by my
beat beat beat beat beat

the tape takes. a new song

i can't keep this a secret for long
it's been haunting me since you dissolved
don't let it out, don't breathe in
now i have been where you have been

cause this is the end of the day
the tape takes the shivers away

and we will walk through these twisting streets
our ghosts will sing with us to ears that unfurl
with each note you hid behind your jaws
i'll pull them out, i'll pull you out

cause this is the end of the world
your heart will unfold like a paper boat

and this is the way it was planned
the way it was planned

'cause love's such an old fashioned word
and love dares us to change our way of
caring about ourselves
this is our last dance
this is ourselves
under pressure
pressure
pressure

your heart will unfold like a paper boat

my lips have nothing to do with my head

sometimes comprehensible phrases escape my lips, or so i am told.
i've been waiting around in my queen-sized bed, the frame is made out of cold dark cast-iron.
i am empty, waiting to be filled again.
it's not a negative thing.

and now there are people, their voices are seeping through my hair and down into my throat. they are sitting outside my window and the smoke drifts into my room and puts my stomach on edge.
i feel my muscles tensing involuntarily.

okay, they are gone now.
i had a kitten here, only yesterday. he was beautiful and i miss him very much. we had to give him away.
he would fend off my loneliness. he was small and soft and warm and bright.

i am unravelling, and i will be knitted back together sometime soon i hope.
into a scarf, or a jumper. winter's on its way.

sleep well,

desiredyou.

, it's late.
my eyes are already starting to close by themselves
i rethink. if anything, it is early...

and it's about at this point in time that i begin to miss

it was about this morning

half awake on the bus just as i close my eyes again
(it certainly makes for more of a detached day)
you come into my head
or at least, what i think you would look like if i ever indeed got to see you
and you are strangely attractive
in all your glorified story
i think you are just what i need.
i am beginning to really miss

i am

currently in the throes of one last look at the wonder

the walls unfold.
like a tale of two tongues twisting
black or blistered

(it's about at this point ................ )

i have smalldreams
of riding into the sunset and looking back
on a fiery discourse:
how we have all the time in the world but the world has no time
no need for it
with or without
the world will still exist in neither future nor past

please, now
do something drastic
scare me
i want to be scared to death of you. intimidated of you. excitedofyou. desiredyou.

my mind wonders
every dead tree could very well be
humanashskindirt
the bark is not
charcoalitisskinhumanskin
akin to bonesdustbones

dust to


ofyou