The Reminder

Her orange in the breeze,

succulent roasted sunshine,

annihilates the stagnant air

and reminds me how to breath.

Deeply.

And for the pleasure of it.

Never Enough

Moments of panic,

followed by

moments of calm

I can do this

I can do this

Sometimes it's too much

Sometimes not enough

I have no idea how to do it all.

How to heal, protect and conquer

How to grow, manifest and dream

How to be all things for all times, at all times

Solving myself like a riddle, a problem

something to be fixed, rewired, changed

trying to create

with the canvas of accomplishment

and capability

trying, trying trying

all the time

its exhausting

and it's never  enough

The Last Laugh

And when I do, remember this

I'll be laughing

and you'll pay me to tell you how I did it

to share with you the secret

not behind success

but inside it

and I'll laugh

and compassionately tell you anyway

because my misery

is your misery

through the grace of knowing it

The Jar

I just ate a half a jar of peanut-butter.

Premium health food peanut-butter,

at $6.95 a jar.

It took maybe,

25 spoonfuls,

to get it all out.

That's like,

$0.12

every time my grubby spoon,

left my lips

and reentered the brown gooey cavern,

of that 250ml jar.

I eat like this when I can't sleep.

I can't sleep when I am anxious.

I eat when I'm anxious,

I think it calms me.

Except this morning,

that waded through the night,

with me on it's back.

This morning can go fuck itself.

For showing up so soon.

I go for long stretches.

without doing it.

But inevitably,
I break

out of frustration,

or boredom

or fear,

or maybe all of the above.

That's ok,

like everything else,

it's not something I can't recover from.

Professional sufferer.

Professional recoverist.

I should write a book.

Instead of these stupid poems.

Something,
 that might really help someone.

Suffering with the privilege 
of too much

and simultaneously
too little to do,

and all the time in the world

in which to do it,

or not.

I don't know why,
 I try so hard,

my imperfection always catches up with me,

regardless,

at the bottom of the jar.

Tonight

Sitting around 

waiting,

for the anxiety of the night,

to wane under 

to fatigue.

Pummelled by 

blizzards of traffic, 

noises flying through the night,

carried on,

by load-bearing snowflakes.

Tonight I dreamt of;

hundreds of lady bugs,

Korean skateboards,

and visits from old friends,

I no longer know.

Tonight I strechted into the darkness

and found it filled

with still more things

I don`t fully understand.

Waiting for it to break,

to shatter - black slivers of glass -

in the reflection of the dawn,

A pungent grey hue, 

of an early morning

finally arriving,

just in time 

to send me,

back to bed. 

Unfashionable

Doing battle with,

the building blocks of human nature.

Condemnation,

and feelings of pity

and failure.

And all the lies!

That,

coagulate and breed,

spinning out pieces,

of dirty thread,

that bind into place

the spirit

and the questions it asks.

That cast into a battle,

with itself,

the prodigal one

trying to climb,

despite the greasy web.

But ultimately falls,

back into place.

A place of longing.

Of need without necessity.

Of desire without love.

What is this place?

Where time stands still,

yet races on.

Where you are always just,

one step away,

from having it all.

Chasing down ghosts,

of a seasonable colour.

While bound,

to a sinking ship of envy.

A single blank page.

Two simple words.

Fuck it.