postage prayed

princelike, squinteyed bloodline.

it's summer inside and your car roof is sticky-taped together.

your dog does not match your sunglasses...different styles altogether.

you're so continental and i'm so disinterested and too skinny for cigarettes.

no finger of yours was made for more than one ring.

it's almost a tshirt day til the wind hooks like a maniac, like happiness.

with every bit of neck exposed, i slept like a bell last night.

those lap splashes of for-sale-sign red and sheet-liquid white.

birds flying out like antique miracles, winter rockets...they fly, zoom.

spillspillspill
unedited understand unedited

the sharp

he doesn't have a job right now but would like to be a garbage collector, bar tender or a tram driver. most of all, he wants to test video games - all day long. he repeatedly runs his fingers through his wavey-dense hair, it's dark chocolate and middle parted. his hair flicking technique is so shampoo tv commercial but so accidently narcissistic.

today he ate chicken parmigiana and watched porn. he saw the new harry potter film and proclaimed the acting to be the best so far. he's never read the books, you see, he's too busy reading books about how to get rich.

his dance movements are fluid, arms sort of floating and bending. head bouyant, rolling. he carries a pointy chinese fisherman style hat...

gold buttons

this morning i'm watching the 112 glint under this rare sun dollop.

i'm reading people seeking people and men seeking women: full figured, slim, friendship, let's be discreet.

red and green and blue and black and gold...my palette today.

this afternoon, i'm thinking and pining for vodka to link with my throat and wisp my brain for a little while. so what about popcorn? and guitars? and some cleverness up my velvet jacket sleeve.

sundays. days sun. un-say.

image-ine

today i'm feeling like rejecting my clothes. i feel like wearing jeans and sneakers and big loose jumpers and hoodies and giant scarves. i feel like neglecting my hair. i want to wear dark eyeliner and hobo gloves. i'm feeling uninspired and unattractive...and like going back on my popcorn diet.

i want to cry in an airport today. and i want to change the shape of my face. it's so squarish. ?

there's this 10cmx2cm bruise the colour of stormy skies and sunsets on my left shin. it hurts on the inside. when i walk i feel it, i feel my jeans pressing against it.

lately, i'm not drinking enough water.

bubble

i’m worried and fucking terrified yet somehow bursting at the rib cage with what i am fairly certain is love of some ilk. and believe it or not, i feel ‘happy’ around 80% of the time (approximately). Presently, i am feeling a little rushy-buzz zap when i listen to a certain band reasonably loud and simply dance, meaning moving body parts and perhaps jumping here and there. i felt the toast-roasty warm fizz in my guts this morning upon finding a fallen banskia flower on the footpath. it was fever-pink, i picked it up and twirled between my fingertips before keeping it my pocket. free colour, texture and scent - a priceless moment. i also get the whir when i walk through streets looking up. have you tried this? tree tops, architecture, clouds, all moving with your eye gaze will giddy you into a dizzy rumble. could spot a birds nest – if you’re lucky. i did. it was giant. i stared at it for a very long time, because i’m not in a rush.