Up at Wood­ford Fest­ival, Queens­land, Aus­tralia, in the last days of the mil­len­nium, the energy rose as people breathed deeply, pre­par­ing to hold our col­lect­ive breaths as the pen­du­lum swung to the summit, to hang there motion­less moment­ar­ily before grav­ity over­took it…

He died as he must have lived Curled up on the foot­path quietly While cars and people passed by Spar­ing only vague pity­ing glances But def­in­itely no small change. He’s peace­ful — you’d think him Asleep if it wer­en’t for the blood On his temples and the two uniforms…

Mer­cury is lighter than each breath I’m banded by metal pin­cers Yet strangely I crave pain. I want to crawl into a small Space and be hurt Badly By someone mer­ci­less So that I’d feel jus­ti­fied in crying. I’d feel safer Some­how Wait­ing for the next blow Know­ing it…

watch me walk­ing down your streets i’m in your veins down there’s the duplex I lived in 9 years ago, deep in your belly, under your skin, damp and cold but care­free. up there’s the ter­race where I came back to you and you pun­ished me for leav­ing squeez­ing me…

so, I refuse to tick your box even though I might tickle your fancy. It’s enough. You roughly hand me my coat As you fail to handle my desires. If only it was as easy as that, Simple as I’d ease my fin­gers Into you — I’m sure you’d arch back Des­pite your arched…