Friends
I've got this newish friend
he's super quiet
Six
Months
Later
He's still quiet
But it's a comforting quiet
Not the quiet that leaves you scratching for something to say
We ate some gold tops a few months back
I decided that night he's a healer
We just sat there
On my deck
In the early hours of the morning
Tripping and sharing little stories
I told him how I use to strangle my neighbour
My friend and his little brother
When I was younger
I've never told that to anyone
We had a good laugh the sort of uncomfortable laugh you have when you're not sure it's really funny
But it is
We've tripped a few times now
On the mushies
And each time is different
Yet alwAys enjoyable
We went big
The trip before last
Ate our freshly picked goodies
He told me of his grandmas quilts but I had to pry
He doesn't share his stories
But he's definitely got a few
NOT
THE END
Frankenstein’s monster
My partner is often jealous of you
and
I know why
My fingers and small hands
love to hold you
sometimes gently
sometimes my grip so tight my fingers ache and cramp
sometimes I fumble and hold you awkwardly
Your body has all the right curves
Your skin golden and smooth
I poke you repeatedly
slide my fingers across your flat face
push your buttons to bring you to life
to shut you up
or make you sing quietly
but you never complain
Your my constant companion
I spend hours starring at you
You always wear protection
If I have a question
you give the answer
If I long for my family
you bring them near
If I need a recipe for banana pancakes
you deliver
You capture moments in life
and hold them securely
You don't always have the best timing
but that's usually my fault
Death is only temporary for you
A suppository for me is a charge for you
Devil’s breath
There's been death in the walls for weeks now, probably close to a month really. We've been through the maggot phase, a painful few days. We worked in shifts sweeping them up by the dozens as they fell from the wall, plump little almost flies, searching for a space to shed their grotesque white worm body suits. I shudder to think what it must have looked like behind the walls as the rotting flesh of one of those squabbling possums was being devoured by blow flies and flesh flies.
Darwin's fucking hot and I've lived in some hot fucking places. I guess we were somewhat fortunate in that our noisy ceiling dweller died in the dry season where the midday heat only cooked his smelly ass carcass to100 dry heat degrees. From 10-5 the hallway of death, which links the kitchen to the toilet, has smelled so terribly that it requires verbal assault every time we are unfortunate enough to catch a whiff.
'Fuck it stinks like death!'
I haven't even mentioned the flies yet. Those black little devil spawns buzz by the dozens, landing on our food, in our hair, in ears, sometimes up the nose, when we sleep, when we shit (of course). I remember reading that flies vomit there food up continuously only to ingest it again so everytime you see one rubbing dirty little leg utensiles together, I imagine him puking and eating all in one go.
Flies are fucking nasty and must be the spawn of the devil.
Anyway, we're now approaching the 'build up' where the heat and humidity rise rapidly and I can't wait to get the fuck outta here. The smell is going to be of demonic proportions. Even The Lord master devil daddy would need nose plugs.
Of course we've told our landlord about our smelly nasty slimy situation, but apparently in this nanny state of australia, the critter grabbers aren't allowed to interfere with these native possums, even in death. So in our wall there will rot a possum which will haunt this house for months to come.
You know when something is just so fucking grose that you have to share it... this is one of those situations.