Part Fourteen - The Part Where I Talk About Myself

I'M TIRED
of thinking about things

I WANT
to feel them

I NEED
someone to love
someone to despise
and
someone to do it for me

I'M SCARED
of everything i know
not what i don't

I'M HAPPY
with the way things go

I'M ANGRY
about the way things are going

I WORRY
that i'll be alone for ever

I WORRY
that i'll never have time to myself

I'M QUIET
because i have too much to say
and nothing worth saying

I'M LOUD
because i'm fearful
if you don't get to talk
you can't judge me

I'M EVERYTHING

I'M NOTHING


WHO AM I?

Part Thirteen - The Man (part 2)

I lie here on the ground
fraying at the edges
torn along the seams
falling apart again

I have been locked away for years
folded into shapes
crushed
hidden in drawers
in cupboards
falling behind the furniture

I am collecting dust

I am becoming dust

Parts of me fall to the ground
my fingers
my toes
my feelings
I can see them falling far from me
and i am not scared

I lie here in a pile on the floor
arms above me
my hair underneath me
my own eyes looking back at me

I am old and worn
I am lost

I am forgotten

Part Twelve - The Boy Who Couldn't Taste #2

I have no tongue. It fell out of my mouth a few miles down the road. My throat has filled with sand and i have started kissing strangers. My tongue is a metaphor but i still don't know what it represents

I remember water.
It was soothing and cool.
It was tasteless.

I still have a tongue but it doesn't work. It is used for sex and for wetting my lips when they burn. It is used to clean the sand from my teeth when i am fingerless and it is my feet when i cannot walk. My tongue is the rain and it is the path through the desert. My tongue is the other half of me. The man who feels my feelings and dreams my nightmares.

I have a tongue.

Tongues taste wine, chocolate and shit.

I cannot taste you.

Part Eleven - Somebody Else's Words

(Sia Furler - Lullaby)

Part Ten - A Haiku (of whisperred thoughts)

Breathing in slowly

The air burns as it fills me

I am new, with life

Part Nine - Asleep

sinking further into pillows
encapsulating darkness
and a wet dream full of strangers

all the wool has fallen
to the bottom of the quilt
and my face is so cold
that i can't even feel my nose
the moonlight casts romantic shadows
through my flimsy curtains.
water drips
slowly down my window

breathe in
breathe out
small contractions
the batting of an eyelid
a haiku of whispered thoughts

things begin to unfold
as the world disappears into darkness

long deep breaths

a forgotten song is softly hummed
not quite loud enough to be noticed
but beautiful enough to be remembered

fingertips
resting softly
skin on skin

beauty

innocence

fragility

sound
silence
a deafening quiet

stillness

darkness



nothing

Part Eight - The Boy Who Couldn't Taste #1

Part Seven - In Memorium

A friend of mine died the other day. She jumped out of a third floor window and landed on the driveway, hitting her head on a car and breaking her neck. It's all very sad but i am yet to cry. I think the part of me that deals with this kind of stuff is lost. So I am numb.

She was a writer. Like me.

Only she actually had something to say. She had a voice, and a vocabulary to compliment it. She never had to... ummm... consider her words to the degree that I do. Everything I write is a lie anyway. It's a compulsion of mine. Or maybe that's a lie. Even I don't know anymore.

Last night a girl i knew died.

I bet she left a brilliant note.

Part Six - the ENDING

Darkness
falling all around me
what once were shadows, now surround
trapped

Nightfall
the stars in the sky are silent
not a single sound
except my heart
in my hands
I squeeze it tightly
until the beating stops
and i am dead

It is easier now
I can breathe for once

Maybe i am not not really dead
Maybe i was never really alive to start with
Maybe... just maybe
this is all there is?

there is nothing to be learned from this
there is nothing to be lost

Part Five - Outside -or- Smell, Sight and Touch

I wandered outside today. I was becoming too much for myself so I packed my things and ran away. I say I packed my things, but in reality there's nothing that I actually own. I said goodbye to the things that I have grown accustomed to.

I wonder if I'll come looking for myself.
I wonder if I'll even notice that I'm gone.

Outside is a scary place. There are so many things that I've only ever seen on TV. For a while there I thought my brain was hemorrhaging or something but it turned out to just be my sense of smell catching me by surprise. It made me aware of things long before I could see them. I could close my eyes and feel the whole world collapse in on me as it disappeared into my face.

When i opened my eyes again it was always more exciting. Things are much much bigger than they seem and much harsher on the fingertips. Inside, things and smooth and clean but out here they are rough, sharp and unforgiving. I bled today, and cried.

I think I am lost.

Can someone take me home?
I'm very scared...
and hungry

Part Four - Other People

Her fingers darted quickly across the keyboard as she wrote down every last thought in her head. One day she would be known for her brilliance.

Writing had always been her forte, but this time there was something different. The girl didn't even have to think: the words just came flowing out of her. She had abandoned eight different stories that she had been working on for this. It was something completely new and amazing.

If only she had been able to express herself this well earlier.

She stopped momentarily so that she could check the time. Her family would be home soon and she couldn't afford the interruption. The keys clicked madly as the girls fingers, sore from a day of writing and nail biting, moved mesmerisingly from word to word.

She wrote of the "cacophonous silence" and the "juvenility of the human mind." The page slowly filled with well thought out, witty metaphors and harsh juxtapositions. This truly was to be her Magnum Opus.

As her parents car pulled into the driveway she hit print and left the room. There wasn't even time for her to read the letter again herself.

As the door openned she ran up to the third floor.


It was her Magnum Opus.

It was her final letter.

Part Three - Another One

Another one
Like a different version of me
Staring me right in the face
Like an emotional mirror
Or a frozen puddle on the cold hard concrete
Words do nothing
Yet the voices are helping
Like oxygen, they blur the edges of this thing
I kill him
The man standing before me
Myself
I am gone and all that's left is me
So I am still here, and this fucking mirror shows it
I kill him again
And I now understand
It is a better version
A newer, smarter, cooler version

It is not me at all
Rather it is all that I am not
All that I wish to be
And all that I despise

It is other people

Maybe if I didn't exist
He wouldn't exist
And then I could live without him
Without those eyes darting all over my body
Judging me
Knowing me
I must hide from him
But he moves even before I do

I throw my bullet into the world

It is buried in the earth and the grass
Beneath the trees and the buildings
In the middle
We all float remarkably around it
Drawn to it
And repelled by it
Caught in the orbit

We have eaten each other
And the bones are our tools
We use them to smash and destroy
We sharpen them
They are spears
And knives
We are not violent
We just do what is needed to survive
Is that not appropriate
We consume each other
We consume the things around us
Animals, plants, televisions, magazines, celebrities
We cannot stop ourselves
Until all is gone

And I am left here staring at him
He knows all of this
He understands all of the things I know
He is me
This stranger
This reflection of the things I cannot see
And the things I know to be true

I kill him

I kill me

Part Two - Where Am I ?

Help Me!

I'm looking for myself.

I don't know what i'll look like, or even if it's possible to find yourself in this day and age. I started looking at home. Am I in a drawer or behind the couch, amongst the old bus tickets and lost coins? I'm too large to have fallen down the drain so i don't really know where else to look.

Maybe (just maybe) I made my way out of the house somehow and am wandering the world lost and confused. That wouldn't be very good because if i know myself at all i am probably getting into all kinds of trouble. I bet i'm not even wearing a jacket and it's gonna be quite cold tonight out there in the world. Should i make posters?



This is pointless. Even if i get close to myself, i'll probably always be a step ahead.

FUCK!

I hope I come home soon.
I'm hungry.

Part One - The Man

i went the wrong way
i am now lost and walking further and further from where i should be
there's no more houses
just road
running on for hours and miles
i keep going straight
keep going straight
keep going straight

and i wake up again
gotta keep moving
no more wrong turns
there can be no mistakes if i keep moving forward
a shoe lies a kilometre behind me
one bare foot
yet it's the other which is bleeding
a fingernail on the ground
i'm falling apart

i wake up
this journey is slow
i remember water
and people
and sky
i have none of those things here
a blood filled shoe behind me
and a foot beneath me in the dust
three more fingernails and a tooth
i am unstable

i do not remember memories
i have emotions
i know tiredness
and frustration
a pair of legs, crossed on the side of the road
and a pair of fingerless hands
pulling me forwards slowly
i couldn't turn if i tried
i can only pull forwards
and only so long as i'm here
a head and a heart
buried in the sand

i am no more

the tissue paper man