Death death

We were walking down the streets of Paris so I say “I’ve been here, I think” and as a reply my friends (who will leave me soon) mumble something incoherent. We walk around the corner and line up in the garden with gates for an upstairs party twenty floors high. People are shouting and a woman I know but with a moustache this time was there, and it wasn’t a feminine moustache it was a big bushy muttonchop thing, it looked good on her.

Later I was talking to a friend and he said pretty certain that I looked like I was hopped up on go. Which makes sense as all I can do is forget.

I lost my shoe but it reappeared, not black this time but both were salmon and I didn’t mind because people were already causing havoc. And I was making it in! But this nasty guy and all his buddies were at the door. I say hey and move the hell along because this guy doesn’t have nothing decent to make of himself, just violence, volume and abuse.

So I keep the story rolling and make it up to the party though I never Catch up with my buddies after that point and that’s alright because making new friends whacked out, hopped up and z-z-zonked is always pretty fun.

Not truly but most clearly the next thing I remember I was in a car squashed squished to the sides I look around and there’s the bad guy.

Next thing I remember we’re in the back of this big rickety trickety truck with the door open and the trailer open and a friend is here! But company is still unpleasant. We must of been overloading because this idea is terrible and I’m not sure if I’m still having fun. I go to the corner and stay. Vibe in the corner and stay. No way! That is a big colourful thing, extremely heavy and not tied down like it’s ready to fly out and take one of us with it. So one of the big baddies (I remember him being slightly more understanding) chucks the whole thing out as if it’s a big soon to be paint on the road; wooden colours, painted wood blue, red, green, yellow, blue all there all everywhere. And the madman shouts! He dances with glee nearly doing a jingle out of the truck and into a graveyard.

My friend tries to congratulate the big man but the biggie steps back and slips holding on by a thread well a finger he sings out help me help me in a drastic lullaby. Sam tries to move but is stuck scared to lend a hand might he share the same fate and the nasty guys sitting closest to the cab watching it all not moving a muscle. I remember yelling save him but that’s all I could do and my friend well he called an ambulance while looking the dying man in his eyes.

‘That’s the second to die tonight’ I think while grasping at straws who else could have faltered except that other baddie in a guard dog’s jaws.

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Last day rumble

there’s nothing better when you lie down and your sheets still smell like a woman. People rave and rave about clean sheets but I don’t know what the fuss is about.

Humbled… I’d describe today with a feeling of smallness and a greater sense. I love climbing, today I had two tiny bits of plastic digging into my heels and two bits of metal halting my toes encased around some ‘proooteccctivvee caasssinngg’  oh baby it was painful I’ll tell you, it’s still painful now. But we climbed a truly pointless climb in a powerful manner, I mean nothing could stop us. Not even the threat of blisters and when our lungs screamed we laughed and continued our psychopathic climb to a small slice of freedom. Just a small climb but it was one too pack a punch wham smack. We made it back but still bang crack lucky we packed a lunch. And you know my feet are still killing me, while Lachy took photos of Jesse and Toby I just stood while they screamed and tussled in an insane madness up so high I sat overwhelmed touched and shrunk I was so small up so high the ground so brown and red with leaves and rocks committing nothing to no cause. Jutting out like they got something to stop. Like a universal right granted to everything to do what ever in heaven or hell it he or she or it wants.

Wow I was so humbled standing on the edge I could jump fall or slip and it would just happen how is that? I’m pretty sure four years ago I was invincible and maybe I still am. I know my mother wishes it was so.

Why what a week it passed like an hour and more tragedy has unfolded by the end, pain and bitter disappointment are drawn into my buddies lives but you know, definitely not mine. Which is weird.

Snake oh snakey snake snake “SNAKE”.. Woah good spot Jess.                         A little yellow belly black scooting along in the bush and we’re all thinking this place is insane. Hungry as a horse we fly back into town and nearly hit a bus a long the windy roads of Wilsons creek and then a Subaru shortly after. Recieve the cold shoulder from a lollipop man oh well. Quick look for a park no parks here so we scoot scoot scoot faster lachs gotta work and we could eat every pie in the shop. We buy one and then another save a drink for later and make 20ks in 5 minutes.

Backtrack to the 28th

Can this month go any slower? I slam my first real car in a pole and time pops a dozen chill pills. Enjoying the moment is one thing but I’m not. Waiting for my bike licence with a big lug for transport is eating my soul, moral shred by decent morsel. It could be worse, I mean I could have died a fresh young man and not a withered youngish man.

Just waiting, stationary while life goes on at this drugged pace with little to no regard for wants or desires. A flattering description of this world can be forced upon all souls but in reality nobody really cares and if they do they have a strange way of showing it.

show me

I don’t care if they are unhappy I’m just nothing
I care if they are unhappy I’m not anything
I’m just me
Like stains on a table or a scab that won’t heal.
I’m just here
for memories that you can pick at when you feel empty and tight as well
Make my day you can show me hell
and all it stands with
not just the horns and the pitchfork show me hell
Give me an urge, Give me hellfire and brimstone
give me all seven circles Show me hell
Not just a life of ash and pain and misery
Show me hell.

Scattered, these are my thoughts. Scatte

A stick shaped like a chicken foot…. that’s all I can think while lying on this warm towel surrounded by cold sand seperated by nothing but each other and each one of these grains has a story but who wants to know even one.
The roaring beast with different shades of blue behind me from the brightest of the light to a dull aqua stirring together but clear apart.
It seems like nothing can deter it’s strength or at least a long this long curvy straight.
Sounding so Frighteningly powerful with it’s white teeth coming down harder each time.
Constant growling while it chews it’s nothing victim for the hundred millionth forever times infinitieth time.
You have to dive in you have to connect.
Because theres no way human nature can conquer this everlasting titan other than with it’s own ruin.
But nobody wants that and even then if it is that, the bones a black and green sludge will be an invincible incredible absolutely astounding reminder that for to conquer we had to drop lower then the low.
Using only foul play, as this wondrously inescapable beast can’t recognise deception and human nature at it’s most devilish. Devastatingly Primal it springs traps and develops mind games not even humans can figure out why or how.
But the beast blasts strength overcoming mortality, an everlaster. living alive or with death
A once pure salute to life as whence it came from because only something so powerful, something so absolutely beautiful would be able to form just as much.
How subtle life seems, the exact opposite of waves crashing down on the skulls of it’s invisible opponents.
Life developed traits similar though. a brutal reminder that everythings tough as waves even water.

Waking right up

a chosen solitude and my habits saw to that, I’ve thrown my motor skills down well more of a fumble and crash. So by myself I sit on this warm concrete past listening to sounds of loneliness not in its purest because there’s a desperate source of connection biding its time in a tile shape. Birds flying, stalking the bushes surviving in a world we will create

With mosquitoes on my legs I don’t know what’s itching me more. The urge to get out or to stay on the floor. With this slow beat temp playing its blessings, no ones listening no ones listening I didn’t even give them a chance. Giving me a headache turning it off and leaving my self worth up to chance.

A First Collection of Words

Who knows
I think my impression is based on what people want to see in me. Not particularly what I want to put across.
Which I don’t mind because I don’t know how I want people to see me so they may as well figure it out.

Fireplace.
Like it or not, the adolescents.. no, all people have a lot to do with firewood in a hot burning red fireplace. Sooner or later you’re going to disintegrate into dust.
Either from your own flame or another log rolling about in that twisted firepit. Where small twigs help big twigs too make literally nothing but smoke dust…. Oh and a little bit of heat!
We just produce more noise then a fireplace.

coffee shop.
Traffic drives by everyone’s equal on the town road.
Unless your car splutters and coughs but even then if it’s a bright orange and has wheels you will probably get away with it.
No sense of paranoia on this road unless you see the familiar white and blue protectors.
Trying to drink this too hot coffee while products of this young culture thrust upon this ancient one walk by in an ignorant bliss of the toxic fumes they are breathing in.
Waiting for my friend to pick me up in this concrete haven called a home town a scent of marijuana wafts by innocently making everyone want to try it at least once. Hell everyone in this town will try it more then once.
I’m helping my friend try and make more money because he isn’t already comfortable enough. He just wants to break on through too the other side, thanks Morrison for that input.
But he’s taking his damn time and I’m starting to wish I had that horrendous drug or at least something too cure this intense boredom that can only come from waiting and listening to an album you feel like you’ve listened too for a millennia.
Whoop and there’s the dealer.
But he’s in a work shirt?
Could it be that the parasite that has ailed societies progress since he was the ripe age of 15 has a respectable job wearing a bright orange salute to the man>
Could this man’s hiatus mark a change therefore furthering law and order, justice and the black/white ways the system uses as fuel?
Probably not, this man has a child and has responsibilities stronger then the average one.
A packet of cigarettes will cure me. Even though it’s an hour and a half of my working life and probably two days off my living life. Hopefully I’m working for those days. While I’m sitting outside the main hub, the concrete palace, bleak, the outlook of my old age seems bleak.

No one made this happen.
What is this scrawl? What god designed this fate?
Woke up by the urge of water, a soft hangover and the creeping sound of an unnecessarily revved CBR250. I stumble through a catastrophe of words with my downstairs beanbag friend and decide to get up with the day, While he decides to move 5 inches too the couch. His lack of energy isn’t astounding anyone who loses doesn’t have much real energy and boy oh boy he lost enough to set a new milestone and he wasn’t even gambling
Ahhhhh the yellow blur and these sunglasses aren’t strong enough. They should just black out this world at least while I’m having a sunshine garden nap.

Probably off
I’m not sure if this wine’s bad or off.
It doesn’t matter it’s all gone.
I have never felt so bad about being broke.
I don’t care what those penniless vagabonds say money creates opportunity and especially for the bored. Opportunities I would thrive on right now. And right now I can only think about myself and that last $5 dollar note which has suddenly disappeared. The paranoia of a poor hungover man can rival a junkie. This week was a ruthless blur encompassed around little success and a throng of disappointment. Mannn this life has so many blessings but I can’t figure out how to tap them. Something terrible happened to my mind, I can’t even relax. This has to have something to do with annoying friends and chosen solitude. Not that it was chosen my bank account saw to that.
I need to find something well I’ll probably get high and hang out with an old friend.

Woah mumma.
There’s the fizz of Nicotine & caffeine, two combined after nearly a week of withdrawal you can feel like an addict.
If my whole day was spent feeling this sensation I would have to be in some sort of drastic heaven.
I wouldn’t be happy but I definitely wouldn’t be sad. Maybe an escalated acceptance.
Now I want a beer.

just one.
Randy! You ever read dogs of war man? I remember lying on his bed in a drug haze feeling out of place but in the right place with my mind bouncing like a whacked out pinball machine while paranoid freaks think I want what they have but all I want is a story, Randy giving cocaine a try for probably the fiftieth time loving life or at least I think so. Get tackled and tackle back barely scoring a point on my best friend.
Remember football always go for the legs.

just one more
As my last coffee and my second cigarette closes to a finish I wish I could keep indulging, thoughts rush in on this easy blue and green morning and I’m glad I have these sunglasses.
So what does your smile really look like?
Absolutely devastated that my coffee is no more. When my thoughts are empty and nothing is happening my life forgets everything a fucked up forced meditation. I’m scared of school today So I’m going in early.

Making noise with half a carton and a bottle of sake.
With the afternoon off and a mild hangover the urge to do anything is there just suppressed slightly by the excellent feeling of being by yourself and listening to a new album,
Lifes great and goals can be overwhelming but whats a challenge if its not challenging.
This place would be so quiet if it wasn’t for my speakers, the drunk mums and this excellent bike.

no name just a little bit of shame.
When your so drunk your standards drop lower then your shoes and you hit on anything that moves. The cocaine you hit aides your cause further and the fifty year old druggo can look like a super model and your pants grow tighter and your boots grow bigger.

This hustle and bustle a main street tustle
Walking like you don’t have it mapped out like the world.
An easy stroll without any sense of time no bounadries no lines, a simple time.
being alone simply aloneness in itself I don’t really know
and it seems people with nothing are alone, there’s a man struggling with alcoholism alone there’s a boy a teen a man alone I don’t really know.
Miss a call and a couple more the noise is ever constant
I don’t think this cigarette will stay lit but no flame will.
easy going tough time to fill these lines with false epiphanies and empty thoughts driving forever driving ceaseless driving thoughts kniving into the backbone my backbone, burning fingers itching to. Move.
I want, I want, I want I ain’t got a plan and it’s alright at least for a few days. Today the sun the heat is scorching this senseless beat continually searching
I have a story
Searching continually searching for glory.

Life’s alright
Drinking poison like an elixir while times ticking and we’re all mixing more, we’re all mixing creating this big gobbledy gelatinous giant without arms or legs incapacitated and with no clear thought.
The process is swift but we don’t think so, it won’t hurt a bit and in your eyes and mine it couldn’t go any slower it’s so painful this bliss, it’s hurting.
Snort Snort Snorting to make up for something big we all lost years ago.
Quick! Cover it. Change it. No one maybe someone wants to see it.
And we don’t even know what it is!
Luck maybe some out of this world incomprehensible fortune will find it’s way to this groundly soil.
And celebrations for decades will continue too grow and grow and find it’s way all the way up our fractured spine and sort our thought process because it’s swift and light and shattered with no single comprehensible clear thought.
Scuttle Scuttle Scuttle
I wonder if the creatures in the bushes are aware of this main street tustle.
A smile and A wave will sort this heavy bone apart.
And the gods of Asgard, Olympus and any in this Universe might frown.
Or just accept because if they don’t like it, Why, Oh, Why did they create it!
Why would they create it?
So Why would they forsake with a frown?
You don’t know, no one does, so don’t even think of listening with an apt ear. The sheer delight we get when will is done and punishment is made. A sickening relentless force embellishing in the wrong doings and goings of others.
As long as it’s not me or you or another.
Quick change it, hide it! Faster, Faster like a lover!
Here’s an idea get a mask cover your Mouth, So no one can see your words Point your forehead South. Humbleise forget and baptize yourself in humanity bring yourself closer too a truer form face the scorn and be torn, ripped broken into a million open pieces.
Don’t become a disabled giant. Maybe an easy thing to say but is it really an easy thing to do?
We can make out alive. Alive! Or dead. Who knows because maybe it’s literally all been said. Alive or dead, how has it been saying?
all hindering or pushing or staying, you know this giant enigma can roll. We can roll!
Movement beautifully made movement, A not so glorious effort at making progress. But progress nonetheless.
And water oh water it will keep dripping making sounds probably lost but always there, WATCH OUT! It’s there Always there trailing off like my thoughts the very strange image of comprehension addles components creating constant confusion.

just like bottled Charm