Throw me a fag.

You know what? Just get over here.

I’ve been thinking… Remember those days? When we moved seamlessly through life, often asking ourselves if it could possibly be any better? If the passersby, the colossal statue we shared with them and the same one we fought over, were true to reality? Was it merely an attempt of evading a series of conventional bores? Or did we really come across love in its most infant form?

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I flew miles and miles to reach your bed,
Where men speak a different language and women say nothing at all.
Here night crouches at the threshold like a hungry cat,
There the eyes of stars are bloodshot with the dawn.

The back of your head contains sweetness I’m afraid will spill,
I’m always chasing it in a crowd.
It’s like a high a young, toothless woman mumbles about,
When she accepts an offer of a cigarette and remembers better days.

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People in the news
Look tired of themselves.
Tired of being fondled,
Like children minded by
The wicked Uncle Ernie.

It’s a long way to travel -
From a hospital drop-off lane in Gaza or Kinglake
Through fiber optic cable.

They’re shuffling their feet
On someone’s living room threshold. Read More »