Since I've Known You

Since I've known you I've known myself,
My thoughts like the wind: they echo in a well.
A dungeon of days and sleepless nights,
Away from your gaze and out of your sight.
I'm filled as I drink using only my hands,
I can hear you above as you dance on the land.
Each step that you take is in time with each beat,
And the blood rushes fast from my heart to my feet.
I drift and I float neither here nor there,
Never knowing 'til I fall again upon something as fair.
I'll roll up my jeans so the tide won't get me below the knees,

But the waves they crash and I can't see.

Gerald

You would've made one hell of an arsonist if you kept on going.
I never saw the change coming,
I never saw you slowing,
Down to the point you became what you've always hated;
I thought you had the fire,
I can see now it has abated.

sometime in may

How many times do I have to start over?
My lip is twitching and my stares are getting blanker.
Nothing but the pen to the paper soothes.
The jet black contrast of the meaningless scribble upon pages of brown.
The words themselves don't matter, and I pretend I'm writing something important.
Something meaningful.
I stare past the pages and into the ether until what I'm writing becomes a blur, and just a pattern. A pattern that only I can find comfort from.
The whole reason for language, for letters, for words, for sentences, paragraphs, essays, poems, stories and lyrics is lost. Non existent.
Just a meaningless byproduct of the release.
Perhaps under a different light, at a different time, revealing.

Unfinished

Crumbs in my bed; I was hungry last night, again,

And now I can't sleep, and now I can't.

When will I end the unfinished songs in my head,

That keep me from keeping on.

And the blank pages of this book hear sories that they'll never tell.

It's not so bad on long-tread ground soaking up the scent of forgotten flowers.

I fill my pockets up with sand and hit the road, home again.

Hitch a ride back to Melbourne town and I overtake a storm,

Quarter past three and there's no one to warn.

The day is bright and I can see the path ahead,

But its hard to take a step with boots full of lead.

I try and finish the story, but I've lost the bookmark,

So I start again, just for something to do.

And motivation comes when I'm trying to get to sleep.

Just let me be.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I think the best possible thing I could do would be to run away and join the circus with you.

It's just one of those days where everything makes sense.
You're calm.
It's all clear.
You succeed.
And then you retire only to find your mind on fire.
Tomorrow waits patiently at it's own demise.

A Shadow Shape

You did not bloom.

Why won't you wither?
Your fruit have all ripened,
And I don't need you now across the horizon.

A fresh wind blows,
With it I'm free,
I try to forget but you keep planting seeds.

In comes a storm,
It dampens the ground,
Up come the sprouts but I trample them down.

Blame it on the Sun,
Or blame it on the Moon,
The time came for collecting and you did not bloom.

When The Night Feels My Song

This band just makes me feel so good, whatever mood I'm in.
It's just so warm and comforting.
Yep.

Honestly... Honesty?!

I love how honest children are.
They don't even have to say a word.


I was recently sitting at uni waiting for a friend to pick me up, when a conga line of awkward looking toddlers began flooding out of Robert Blackwell Hall. They each had their mothers by their sides, who looked as if they were enjoying themselves a bit too much. Trailing behind, of course, was the occasional lethargic and somewhat despondent looking father.

Maybe it was just the effect seeing Hi5 had on them, or maybe I am just an odd looking bastard, but every child that walked past me would systematically stare me down as if my nose was on backwards and I had the tail of a cat for an eye. They would spot me as they approach, and their little mouths would drop slightly, slowly falling lower and lower with each step they took towards me. It was as if they were only discovering what they initially thought was shocking when they first spotted me was increasing exponentially.

Not only that, they would turn their little heads once they had passed, as if to make sure that it is really real, and that I hadn't starting throwing up disco balls made of elephant skin without them realising. They would stumble, lose their footing and float inches off the ground for half a second or so while their mother straightened them back up.

I really got a kick out of watching those kids walk past.
And I really appreciated their honesty.
If we didn't learn how to hide what we think and how we feel, perhaps the world would make more sense, and...

Perhaps I'd make more sense.