fuck me fix this
drink
so i can taste
sweat,
don’t look me
in the
eye
incase you find
what you
like’s
grown cold as
stiff,
plunged without first
glancing
into shallow pond
at base of
cliff.
poem
wringing caffeine
hands-
shoehorned into hearse
shaped bus
on
sluggish morning
rush
i lack the push to shove
my way up
front.
chewed through pencil,
lead tip smudge
loose leaf torn up, worn
off grudge.
there’s no delighting in
memoirs of sand
between
toes
sans each rinsing
ripple
recedes as breath
slows.
streetlight sweats
through
curtains drawn from
dusk till
dew
like greasy
glue
upon petals
part
overexposing
heart.
teasing lyrics from
flat scenery,
rerevising dirty
poetry,
no one reaches me
where you
do..
you find it
lonely
too?
how are you the
mind
behind matchstick
eyes?
hatching bedside
schemes,
manners matter
little
when setting fires
to be seen.
treasure map lost
in pocket,
blonde sand floods
eye sockets
still dreaming of
rescue-
still clouded from
view..
within you know not
to reach
me
on beach starved
of trees
you know not
to find
me
resolve growing
thin-
blind to sea smoke
wafting
in.
bliss be each
caress
dreamed of
since
wandering where
our pasts
merge to mend
at play.
the still frame of
youngest
gum wadded
to wall-
bookending two deeply
dead plants
hands failed in
thriving-
set alarm to water kids
by morning.
hands in the garden 
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