Transient is my shiny exterior;
reflecting truth between the shelter,
hiding bruises after falls,
held up by others — the only time I stand tall —
pathetic validation; never should have been
before my time (but when is my time?)
Seasonal, except for my interior:
One bite, and you know
sour, wasted, just throw.
Don’t think this way,
it’s apples and oranges, they say.
But what if you are better
being an orange than I am an apple?
Your sourness is valued,
you fill cups and are worthy
even of a nickname — a timeless one at that — OJ.
I’ve never even heard of AJ.
Note to self when in doubt
You get to spend a few years of your life reading, thinking, and discussing literature. This access you have is an opportunity as much as it is a privilege.
X: [Choking, sentimentally] Caught up in you — for all the wrong reasons, you say…
O: better off not living this way, but how about it [stands with dazed look. Turns head left and right] Just today? [Pause] Spare me, time; I need some to —
X: breathe. [Anger rising, fists clenched] How is it that you don’t ever look back without knowing WHY? ALL THIS WHILE I could only look from behind [pants for air. Catches breath before falling to a whisper] won’t you stay for a bit?
O: I will only rest – just a beat. [Leans on wall]
X: It’s only been a few days but a few years have gone by. [Counts with fingers] Too many changes have come and died. [hands fall to sides] where are you seeing right now are you smiling or crying I wish I know why you are running ALONE I see your shoulders; sometimes [falls to knees] I want to quit, too.
O: [Pushes self off the wall] Everything is changing. [Paces on the spot] But me? Why?
X: 21; there’s alot left to do. [Deep sigh] Mis(s)takes — it hurts me to hurt them. I really wanted to do so well for them; but it’s me —
O: I’ve changed? [Looks heavenward]
X: It’s not too late for that break: I’m going to lie down. [Lies prostrate]
[O leans back against the wall, hands folded.]
[Simultaneously] Don’t wake me up.
the pulp moulds
under your fever
touch – it crumbles; feeble.
seep into the folds,
rewriting the untold:
Inhale, and fill
the days past
Exhale, and peel
back to the drawing board.
Hunter Valley, Sept 2017.
I climbed a tree,
and caught it’s tears.
I drank the sunlight,
flew from my fears.
I dropped my mind,
tried picking it up – too much too heavy a fight.
I need something,
more than anything.
A higher self,
but this time,
not on your shelf.
I chased shadows and lost colour.
My battle scars aren’t for show,
No. But that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of them.
I want to say I did it because of my hopes, not fears.
I want to know what it’s like to wake up feeling
I want to turn off the lights knowing I have given it my all.
I want to listen to the wind in the trees on my way home, and feel as light as the leaves.
I want answers to questions I shouldn’t ask.
I want to be able to open my eyes underwater, breathe with the wind in my face.
I want to know how to love you, but
I’ve got to love myself first.
I want to be enough.