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1. |
3am
04:27
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it's getting too late
for you to go home
i'm running on empty but there's nowhere else to go
and you thank me for biding my time
i'm holding my tongue
what was i meant to say
it's getting too late
for you to go home
i'm running on empty but there's nowhere else to go
but i promised that i'd be a good host
my heart is beating just loud enough for me to notice it
listening never speaking but taking in the sound
it's like i'm searching
my eyes are slow and dry
they itch each day like i'm resetting
i'm getting more tired
i don't fear sleep anymore
it's welcome now
i knew what i was doing i tell myself
it's my choice
confusion forgave me for chewing my cheeks
and thankfully choosing to and asking to
and lying out to everyone by lying down and keeping my jacket on despite the fact that it was far too hot to
confusion forgave me for chewing my cheeks
you woke me up at three o'clock
coughing up the awkwardness
and wanting you to leave
(waiting out the storms day by day
feeling like spinning passivity beckons
paving the way to fictitious bliss
wishing i was somewhere else and wanting you to leave)
it's like i could slide off the ground again
either i'm rotating or the earth is
again counting seconds
rampant self-awareness killing any escape
and writing about someone else
not depending on them or their friends for motivation
my formulaic destruction
now it's almost over i might have broken out
not empty anymore
rediscovering colours and familiar sensations
memories re-imagined
or the discovery
of lies my eyes are telling
won't let me return
anymore
i move further away from you
each step that i take
(and thankfully choosing to and asking to)
(you woke me up at three o'clock)
(it's getting too late)
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2. |
jack
03:15
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i couldn't be bothered putting clothes on after the shower
so i sat down naked and dripping on this chair
when it is damp later i'll wonder why
i'll wonder why
why the wine bottle was half full last night
but by morning it was half empty
i had a glass half full night out
and a glass half empty hangover
he gave me a plastic cup of water before i slept
and a fresh one when i woke
he gave me vitamin B, and chocolate while i told him about heartbreak
and in the morning he gave me a stern lecture
about why you shouldn't text boys back
i kissed him goodnight last night for the first time
maybe the last time
i didn't know how else to physicalize how much love i felt
how to physicalize the physical lies of a glass half full friendship
in a glass half empty situation
i said i'd drive him to the airport
i don't know how i'll walk away
i don't know how i'll leave alone
it'll be like forgetting a part of me on the baggage carrier
going round in circles
unable to stop
i will cry into chocolate and vitamin B
i will drink vodka that tastes like his shoulder blade
i will write poems in the shapes of his laughter
and i will try to keep my bed half full
but without him my bed will always be half empty
i never believed in the phrase 'other half'
always feeling like i was complete on my own
but my best friend is leaving this country
and without him
nowhere feels like home
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3. |
fade
04:46
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it's been ten months why are you still lying to your girlfriend about what we did last night
your addiction to misinformation challenges every conception i've constructed about love
explain the attraction if over half the words you've said to her aren't true
you spend more time maintaining facades than ever trying to show her yourself
believe me i know you think he treats you well
but look at his friends
have you seen what they do for him
is he there for them or you
why do you still love him
he's not what you thought he was
does he know who you are
does he know what you did last night
why are you there
believe me i know
you should just leave
doesn't seem like you can
back away turn your heels and leave
insert yourself here into the shoes of the wounded
feel the pain of what you've done
suffer and fade with the setting sun
do you ever think of the bloodshed
let it burn deep into the back of your skull
and as the broken memories lay dead fleeting fast
in the mess of broken glass
let me ask you a question
when you look into the mirror are you proud
can you feel the monster's eyes on yours
can you feel the world shatter without a sound
is the person staring back someone you'd like to call me
swallow what you've become
watch the world shatter without a sound
watch it fade
you will fade
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4. |
the road
03:41
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and now she'd rather forget
the horsepower of express trains
the featherweight bones at canning bridge
and the knives in the drawers of paradox apartments
shivering in the heat of an un-carved heart
she's always standing in the hot ghost of someone's car
cold-blooded
sex starved
her skin tight she's got no fight in her lungs
open mouth washed out she's figured that her revolution
was just an apocalypse
and she's practising her final pages
unsure how to use the emotions i'm still still
with your clothes on my floor she will sit still
she spills her tea again
hands shaking
heart racing
until she is still
i'll fill glasses
fill stories
fill memories
fill in
still saying we aren't playing anymore
she's sleeping in out and around
spilling pills filling empty thrills
killing any chance of sanity
i wonder if she will sit still
she forgot to save
dragged her feet around campus looking for a friend
finding nothing she goes to catch the bus but charity workers block the way
she doesn't have the words to say she always had a choice
she runs
finds a spot on the grass
working men in the distant
no money no mates
she cries oceans of salt and snot into hands and she doesn't know why
red lights drop to green
climb yellow
back to red
red eyes closed tight she crosses roads
deliberately aimless
whistles from men in cars breeze past the breeze glances her face
eyes turned downwards to shoes and cracks
looking for wasted second she feels her heart beat crack
rain crashes against concrete
eyes rise to knees then hips then lips to eyes
immediately darting away
fleeting tension
unsure of expectations
heart caught in her throat
both girls stop and stare
these feelings aren't familiar
exclusionary hypertension on thoughts of family feelings and friends
who needs to know
why not tell them
you can
it's hard
getting easier
she's scared
drawing scribbles for breath
scared of these theme-less dreams
these sex delusions
and the same old seconds unraveled
her system's insignificant
she can taste the blood on the road
but she won't know where it goes
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5. |
well and truly
04:16
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it will be ten days until i see you
on the 29th of may ten days after the 19th, only three days time until there's twenty more days to go
get rid of written words
i'm kicking each day out of it's cocooning mess
sick of tuesdays
chewing down on knotted shoulders knitted tightly to over-felt associations and lost once loved memory things that all too often trigger big, bad, angry, exquisite emotions to knock my toothbrush against my teeth and bite chunks out of my own cheeks to feed no one but myself
i've written five pages tonight
maybe i should stop
watching clocks
i'm not myself
i've lost what cost me my sanity
any clarity isn't here
i'm always waiting
eating the 19th
up until one memory today
is lying in a question of worship
does it come naturally to over-
feelers feeling out their own
existence to the point of non-
existence filling up by picking
out and pacing through erasing
points and finally filing every
point and line away
awaiting night and dawn
and day and dusk exist
as one occur as one be gone
and done
and multiplied by nine
not points on lines that all at once have not yet happened and seem to never be able to happen
each moment is secretly twice of the other and waiting is taking so much longer than any other activity
and i'm doing it always
patiently running
patiently crying
patiently just making it and making up bus rides
dreams run in your consciousness
fake discussions
taking chances
i'll leave you to your lies
continue analysing signs
having a crisis
(i'm doing it always)
i'm crumbling at the seams
just keep melting into your surroundings
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6. |
nornalup, 27/11/11
05:23
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i'm still stuck
in the rut of convenient misleading
and badly treating
i'd be conceiting
if i could say it's over
even slower i better show her but i won't
please don't
should i ask
one last time
unsure of consequences
or where that path leads
i'm still stuck
november 2011
there were six of us
a train ride for two hours and a bus for four more
none of us old enough to drive
laughter and lingering gazes blur together with the trees of the forest rushing by
too young to be leaving anything behind
i fell in love with a dream, of what our life could be
the smell of wood smoke, warm tea and old couches on fading porches
'and in that dream
i'm as old as the mountain
children grown on the edge of the riverbank
what a life we led in the summer'
the following year was different
smiles just a little bit quicker to fade
eyelids heavier earlier
more years behind us
more alcohol to erase them
the third time felt like the last and it would be
and i wonder if i'll ever go back there again
or if there is a place to go back to
not a home but a place to feel at peace
and a place to feel truly loved
so i've been saying no to things my body needs and yes to everything it doesn't
trying to find my way back
drawing pictures with old memories of times we spent forgetting heartbreak or words we shared
content in masking taste with inhales and exhales
locating memories and isolating warmth and feelings
you've given me reason to remember
watching ink set into skin the flux of light and colours mix the pain
interlocking denial and confusion
scattering and shattering
regularly waking with a head weighed down waiting to regret the day ahead
eager to forget
contemplating temptation
and the subtle seduction of never knowing
(trying to find my way back
the smoke doesn't taste the same
always wondering if and doubting that it is even possible
trying to find my way back)
i heard there was a fire
but i'm too afraid to ask
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