oh it's good. 
it's good that i can see his face in photographs with other beautiful people and feel only the slightest pang of sadness that quickly gets overwhelmed by gladness. 
it is good that i can cry and laugh at the same time. 
it's good that even with all the little shadows and confusing moments i still know that beneath your ribcage there is a cord that runs directly to just beneath my ribcage, even after all these years. my oldest friend. 
it is good that these days come up and bubble over like they do. that decisions are made as soon as you wake up because you know that today it is just all a mess and that is okay. 
it is good.
it is good that things ache - it is good to hear that communication and try to know it even if you don't understand most of the time.
it's good to feel time's malleability in each moment. 

it's good to feel other's successes as a boot in the gut but to know that the gutboot is just a reminder of how unique you are, how sensitive you are, and how free you can be from comparison.
it's good to feel creative and free without expectation.

it is always a good time to begin.

heartful thoughtbreaking

sitting at my dining table, listening to a conversation repeat itself 
a repeat of a repeat, only a little broader this time
and just as hopeless

(carry it on, 
get      it     together)

I see the sheen of my filmy protective layer thinning
but even as tension releases and it disappears,
I am still not cringing, or squinting.

let it all rush in.

oh that AIR yeah it is necessary for it to slam you full-force in the face
nostrils flare and memory of salt-sweet stinging bombardment sets these lungs to 
expanding

ribs crack open ready to embrace the night-lit tide of all my pasts 
and forgivings rushing in

the sudden influx of pressure or some shooting star coinciding with a late light breeze stirring fine hairs
destroys me every time but I climb
out

it was stale in there.


Now, led by example or lemming demands I'll still listen, watching binary stumble off your tongue
nudging cracked teeth
then my time stirs and shudders awake...
Priorities shift like the repetitive lesson of the shuffling dance we don't entrust to our feet
our minds slip
until we resolve to break 

the skin

let it all rush in.




and take note:
nails bitten to the quick. whitetailbite, dull itch. hips and spine aching. scalp flaking. tired body, tired eyes. heartful thoughtbreaking. respectful removal from conversation, or labrynthine logic. soul-fuelled love-shifts, evolutions or re-incarnations. truth felt and spoken, belly still broken. (time & observation) but the continuation of this revelation station has my core worn down a little and I gotta say I am looking forward to seeing the ocean

and letting it all rush in

today, perhaps right now even

i know nothing and i feel empty and this keyboard is alien to me

i look around me and feel nothing i see my life leafed into pages and i feel nothing

i hear the wavering giggle and i feel nothing i feel cloudy

something i know something but how something surely not i wait and i wait

but i act now yes i do i have actions and deliver things, to myself, to you

to the world and i am proving it slowly to myself, to the world, to myself

jaw aches familiar life cycles deteriorate ebbing with each season and i cannot take advantage of it enough i cannot make up for lost time

i feel empty again ok will feel empty once this choked up acid reflux of a word gets spoken

thank fuck

not quite ready to be filled again

i miss you man i fucking miss you you retard why aren't you near me? i feel your soul within my soul and without and i want to know why it gets so fucking hard sometimes and i know you can't tell me but at least you can just smile and say it's fucked but here we are

maybe it is getting so close to that time of year maybe it is almost 7 years now no fucking way it makes no sense you are still here you are still

my past comes rushing up on me tsunami-style, giving not one fuck, not for me or any other ant, crushing all in its wake and releasing salty creatures to flop about uselessly in my psyche

leaving nothing but bits in its wake

bits and starfish to dry up as the sun burns burns burns

deliver deliver deliver

feel better feel better feel better

breathe deep and slow down

just draw it up and expel it and compose

this don't bother trying to make sense of it

release

salty creatures back into the sea

bringing it back banana bread

heartheadached

listening to your old songs made up on the spot just letting it come or something like that
soft blows to the soul all day
for the last few even, a little bruised

efforts made here & here, see
(my flesh being your flesh)
she spoke to me, she said ju

sequencing in my head, in retrospect
singing to myself from myself
a brief moldavite encounter and so many thoughts rolling rolling
crashing into myskull
clavicles creak open
heartshell hums






love and vague love
life unfurling itself slow
on the one hand and in the other,
life giving itself away

release
lie with it, feel half-dream within it
awake alive and bright

you are shown again how to surrender to the process

 
in silence or singing mindlessly
that eyes roll back into skull feel
slight definition, half-light

soaking your soul in a dark puddle
apply pressure and repeat

    half-sleep

future looms bright and giddy
breathe out sit back -
i am excite.

i fuck myself
the world fucks me

purely, infinitely

i fuck myself
love fucks me

blissful firebreaths through me

i fuck myself
my soul fucks my body

i be come
a cycle complete

one of these days, and very soon (even if it seems like lifetimes), it will resolve.

i have aches, i am ill. it washes over me til i find myself sleeping for centuries at a time - this deathstyle could not be mine, i feel my heart and my mind will not stop rolling under riptides and surfacing for the first time baptized twice and seventy-five i'm up to my last time this time surely there will be a break  sometime
i
need
air

so i push through the fear and wake earlier year by year by/a new beginning breathes life back into the air. have you seen the trees out here? i swear they've been round hundreds of years, they twist and stretch and split and blossom, you are missing it dear

so much hidden, so much hiding still

where will you end up? where will you start up? where will you middle up?
i have an irrational anxiety lightly ebbing, south beach as opposed to cottesloe. it consists of home and loved and potential and/or lack thereof. but there is so much! why not just grasp it? you have hands, you have ideas. you have not been digging, love.
listen back, re-compile. create. re-create also, you have it all at your fingertips. administrate, adjudicate.

it is so very necessary to get proper sleep. you must take in the luxuries while you have them, juju, you must absorb all that you can and then expel it again don't just keep it cooped up in there all pidgeon-holed and birdshitdiseased. either that or let it decompose post-mortem first and then see what texture appears. you like that sorta shit.

so potential, hey? frustrating when your most accessed or most natural talent is currently swinging about in the rafters also, having forgotten where the ladder was. teetering on the moulding beams, knowing 5 stories and thick red velvet curtain wait beneath but carefree... hundreds of tiny flashing eyes blinking featherbrained and fearful from darkest corners.
time, m'dear. one way or another you'll hook her. keep paddling out, or climbing up disjointed staircase, or scratching purposefully at the tiny pieces of stuff that create the surface - so much hidden

so much hiding still...