Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning. You're breaking the girl.
Bah-fucking-humbug. Twenty-five minutes to two in the morning. Over-tired but unable to sleep. Devoid of thought. Signed tenancy security-check forms today. Lit the fuse.
Where have all my stories gone? I have a want in me to let them out, but they stay stubbornly stoic inside me. I am still madly in love. I am still mad.
When I walked out of the ocean I knew the salt I could taste was you sending me messages through the sea.
Every day I kill in search of a cure kills me equally as quickly.
Liberate your minds. Slovenly and homely and whorish public-servants running us into the ground and claiming the blame lies at the feet of perpetrators of "youth crimes."
Will you sing me a lullaby when you get home, Freckle? I could sure use one.
Half the man I used to be.
Seven black birds sitting on a wire, one says to the others, "Let's start us up a fire. I'll bring the gas and you bring the matches, the sparks will be small but we'll hope the world catches."
The last time I remember feeling one hundred percent happy was November 15, 2006.
Leafy greens and ruptured spleens.
Juxtaposed images against my window pane. Wanted the neighbours to see what I'm thinking and feeling. Yelled across the fence, "This motherfucker must be crazy!"
Want to move to Hollywood to see the junkies in the streets and the moviestars in the hills and know for sure in my heart that I hate this place.
Fascination with the mundane. How do people live their whole lives in a manner more excruciatingly boring than my own?
Acute lower back pain.
Solid defence but a lack of attacking spark. The Highlanders should have given contracts to Karne Hesketh and Chris Noakes.
Complications of a mastermind.
Dragging the lake for shopping trolleys and three-eyed trout that smoke well and taste good with brown sugar.
Golf.
Referals to specialists who tell you nothing more than the basics and who collect vast sums of money for it.
Semblances of normality.
Since when did being who you are become such a goddamn burden in the world?
Shimmy-shambolics and pretty-plutonics.
When I was a child I used to run around at all hours of the day because running around was the funnest thing in the world. I barely did my homework and I was always top of the class. Some days I was invincible, and other days my brother just kicked my ass so I knew the truth. I never had a father.
What the hell is Blue Ray DVD?
A Vipassana course would be a great idea for me, but I'm too afraid to spend ten days inside my own head.
A licking stick is thicker when you break it to show.
If I ever get a book of poetry published, there will be a number of surprised and angry folks around.
Once a Glider crashed into the side of my grandparents' house. That is how close we are to the runway.
An open letter to those who voted for John Key and his National Party cohorts at the last election: Fuck you.
Thimble-sized injections of absinthe into my bloodstream every twenty minutes.
My Mother was the probation officer for my best friends' father. He is a cool dude. Even mum agrees.
My teenage years were punctuated with bouts of self-importance and a holier-than-thou attitude to drug use. I am a hypocrite.
Nimble mind, nimble body.
Just when you thought I couldn't get more profusely stupid, I am joining a pyramid scheme to see if I can cheat the system.
Generations of bigotry and racism. Nothing has changed.
Are you willing to get your hands dirty for the one you love?
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