postcards · from · a · lighthouse

every cell, every pore of me, is screaming out in some sort of dullened pain.
not for any ill do it again reason either. it was barras birthday saturday.
when nights turn to mornings and you find urself crawling thru kings cross station,
just hold ur breath until you pass out and vanish forever.
coz scotch by the bottle doesnt repair any war wounds trust me.
i mean yeah we laughed and touched the nights sky,
but now im crying like the life out of breath i am :]
finding myself addicted to staring aimless at objects,
waking out of it to wonder what the f**k put me there in the first place.

oh i have to be at the airport at 6am, by 8 ill be back in sydney again.
i dont know what to watch til then.

last night you drew me there,
face in my hands and tip toes the rest.
i loved most moments of it,
the you moments.
i chased you moments rarely,
though i did.
honest parting,
not something to part about at all.
or party.
the overcoat of lifes damp worth.
then i woke up again today, like most days
staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
caught in an instance,
its a novelty of mine,
not at all you, but you.
you being me, being breath,
being sky, sand and sentiment.
being every little bit of everything.
...i is we, together apart.
_xo

have you ever...

have you ever...

whaled like a million lost souls
over the crashing feeling a sea has to scream out.
if only the world would forget that you ever kissed me.
momentarilly like lightning bolts staring, we dance,
and crave a process like no other paints her portraite.
i can hold out likeness and drown with knowing you,
have everyone someday and guess the clouds out wayward.
smiles make plenty a gesture to care about,
but does it always bring a tear to the page,
or just a tear to the sky.
fall on me,
now with new muse and folktale fantasy.
soon i will sit amongst it.
likeness and love today,
love a star burnt out.
_xo

breathing in to you as i tred softly,
the grass by feet and fallen.
watching glimpses of a jelly baby,
as she sings me her lullaby.
the narrow saviours of my day,
coloring in the blank spots,
and making sure to go outside the lines.
this is walking way aways,
as the night kisses coldly on my arm,
and watches from up there,
the gratitude i give to beauty.
she blows me kisses,
i woe inside.
the moment kindles,
a throat of whys?
this is walking way aways,
this is me most the time.

theres something about sitting still amidst the heat and buzz that brings me to my knees,
theres something about sitting with old friends playing new music that brings me to my feet.
theres something about sitting stone faced in the window of a steel carriage,
theres something about sitting at all that makes me all the more so damaged.
a vacant lot. a car out of luck. a sober day. a phone call i got.
a nightmares fear. a boat load of nothing. a moat. a motivational quote.
this is the wasted time i am, trying to get things done.
this we spoke on concerned that it never let up.

got holsters rarin'
up in a blaze of glory,
heres the story.

frowns and smiles,
theyre all just mirror images.
people left people right,
demand, demand, demand.
a sequel to the night,
a place with lounges, cake and old faces.
babies caution to take on this adversity.
maybe the take, a wake on chasing curtains.
all i know is fading,
all ive seen believable.
the pen close but the paper far,
a plane crash ago i was whole.
why do annonymous pe_pl ask so many paintings,
without a single polariod smile...?