I am a cake

I am cake batter. I am cake batter all sticky and eggy and spicy (I am ginger cake). I am liquid sort of thick though, and cold and it isn’t very pleasant to be me right now I tell you. There are fingers dipping in me, my body wants to fight back but it can’t. When the fingers pull out it hurts and my body sticks to them and the fingers put me in mouths. It’s okay though, I’m used to it. I’m cake batter. When I get poured out of my bowl it’s okay too. I don’t really like the bowl; I like the tin. The tin is my favourite place. The tin goes in the oven and it is warm and I feel happy and I swell with assurance and pride and probably hot air, though without conceit. The oven is nice, the tin is nice, it is nice to be cake batter in these places. I am happy in these places. I am happy.  

waking up exactly where you fall (asleep)

i’ve been sleeping on the other

side of the bed

a lot lately

i’ve been thinking about you

over there

and how perfectly you fit

yes,

there

and everywhere else

it doesn’t take me long to fall asleep anymore either

you

and

me

eyes shut

in dreams

we are more alive than ever

until we wake up

i suppose

i realise that isn’t even half of it

being alive in dreams

together

is

well,

fantastic

but nothing

(i don’t think)

is more

extraordinary

than

genuinely

you

ideas for poems (a poem) (74)

something about hair cascading over my face so that it feels like i am a lil creature hiding in your hair
something about being very quiet
something about looking at your face and feeling things
something about smile lines
something about oceans and oceans and oceans
something about waking up in the middle of the night, kissing your lips and then falling back asleep with my lips still on your lips a little bit
something about (censored) (censored)
something about listening to Neutral Milk Hotel on my headphones
something about mouthing words to a song
something about feeling okay
something about your death or
something about your life or
something about how these things are the same thing maybe
something about feeling detached
something about trying to push my body through glass
something about wanting to break everything or just one specific thing
something about the various textures of my hand
something about slender fingers and limbs
something about leaving everything i know
something about drinking a lot of coffee
something about friendship
something about being really, really warm
something about something

you seem happy

the beach is near
there are dogs in this park at the beach which is near

try to balance on the edge of the footpath
not working

dogs run ahead of their owners
run
run ahead
wait
look back
run
run again

not walking straight
i am looking out at shipping containers on ships
watching mini waves crashing onto themselves

two dogs are growling and biting each other
are they actually trying to kill each other
chasing each other
like they besties

it is warm today
and the beach and the park are both pleasant
via winter sun

another dog does poos
and i watch

Afternoons feel like mornings

Sitting on the porch wondering when the streets will stop smelling like poo
and the kitchen like
Soy sauce

The Dalai Lama has rectangular-shaped glasses with Transition lenses

man

it must be awesome being the

Dalai Lama

when he’s on chat I bet he’s like

“hehehe”

that’s how he laughs irl

the Dalai Lama is so sweet

so chill

so content

and giggly!

we could learn a lot

‘cept how to hongi

(he forgot that)

“hehehe

sorry I forgot”

he said

and touched a nose with his nose

“hehehe”

the Dalai Lama told me to be happy

he said be optimistic

he said some stuff about the earthquake

we mustn’t be afraid

everything that happens is natural

---

there is a pile of dust and plaster on my floor which I brushed off my bed

it fell out of the wall the other day in a big aftershock onto the person sleeping beside me

---

I dipped a nacho chip into some curry

“hehehe”

yum

61

60

i want to swim in a sea of chestnuts
i want to run through a field of chestnuts
i want to knit a sweater made out of chestnuts
i want to get a whole bunch of chestnuts and draw your face on every one with a black marker
i want to put chestnuts in the microwave for 10 minutes and see what happens
i want to give you a chestnut like it is a flower
i want to shout WHAT ARE YOU FOR at a chestnut
i want to hold something in my hand that is not a chestnut and imagine that it is a chestnut
i want to read a book about chestnuts that is made out of chestnuts
i want to throw chestnuts into the air and make a high pitched squealing sound
i want to throw a chestnut at your face and make you bleed
i want to bake a pie (not chestnut related)
i want to feel a sense of existential angst whenever i think about chestnuts
i want to start a jazz funk trio called stacey and the chestnuts
i want to type 'chestnut butt' into google
i want to pet a chestnut like it is a cat
i want to anthropomorphize a chestnut
i want to make love to you dressed as a chestnut
i want to write poetry about all the things i want to do that involve chestnuts (check)