a thousand frames a second

rising from a flutter to a hum. anticipation washed and wrung, moves to the spin cycle. i am backflipping through the garden. almost shaking as i hang out the washing.

piles of satin and chiffon. cacophany of colours. my sisters breath so close i can smell it on the winds that swirl round the ghost gums. i am holding back as much as i can manage. the bit is left behind.

a thousand frames a second. glass memories never age. these fragile things are fortified. i am swept up with the dust on the breeze.

gentle kicks

nervous system overstretched but the house is silent now. the walls breathe softly. measured pace. i am embraced by my own company.

the future rolls out like red carpet. dots itself along the hillside like spinifex. i am uncertain still but trusting. the relief kicks in.

when we speak the truth we answer our prayers. the value of integrity is unfathomable. despite distance and anxiety there is a paitence that settles the dust.

welcome back

peeled back and scrubbed by river sand. smoked until the only scent on my skin is ash. in the crystallised sky i streched myself until i snapped back into my soul.

it's been cold in the refridgerator. cuddling up with the leftover milk and ice cubes. anticipating every brief interval of light before the door is sealed shut again.

i'm defrosting.

with eyes that sparkled i felt myself return. i heard you whispher a welcome as i fell asleep. cheeks shining with the debris of tears i brushed away the last of the loathing.

floating up my spine and curling through my cheeks. my chest is open again.

you know this ones for you

selfish and in denial. like a salt and vinegar chip. twisted and obscene.

these passive aggressive playtimes. play hopscotch over daily duties. a palaced princess hovering. veiled and out of touch.

peek back beneath the curtain. pretender plastic smile. cutlets of abuse left frying on the concrete. outside.

raise yr eyebrows. run to a safe play. avoid any manifestation of the truth. hide yrself in a daily schedule. fuck you i'm boiling. don't touch me with yr apathetic appraisal. i want guts and truth and honest. i see yr routine is well honed.

splilt into the afternoon and you think i'm bullet proof. i'm loading guns and shining pistols. wear yr armour well when you get home.

softer

I trace the last of the day with my finger. smudge marks the horizon. every hue gets lost in transit. fades back into itself.

as muscles pull from skin, pull from bone and sinew and fat. i fall into that soft place. steady my landing catchin baloons on passing strings. we are much more silent now. i do not hold it. these fears and anger slip from tongue.

a curse is dropped in passing. i pull myself back from waving chicken bones. an archeitecture of possibility emerges from the skeleton. digging only reveals so much. brushing away to see the truth.

for the next act...

the corner sweeps around me and the path is not the same. i am chronicling big decisions in small books. keeping my hand writing neat and tight. these are delicate sweeps of ink and metal. controlled, considered, petite.

i am a stone fruit. my skin is easily bruised. the flesh melts on impact of thumb.

emerging from the cupboard. uncurl my spine and shelter eyes. my electronic life is buzzing. reality is static. the sheets are ablaze with electricity. i am replacing fuses everyday.

between cloud and rain

I have a cupboard full of unframed prints. Pictures I've forgotten to display. On days like these I peruse their beauty before returning them to their shelf. Hoarding treasures like an island. Making maps to plunder me by.

There is a beauty in the silence that hold solitude and lonliness in place. I am an astronaut. Isolated by perspective. The smell of rain is on the horizon but has not yet broken it's thirst. My teeth are cut on small goods. I am processing these things so they'll keep.