1.

Delila Lillyhood brought the fun home in a foil wrapped bundle. It went up in smoke, always disappearing much sooner than desired. Always hungry. Hungry for more? Or hungry for the reckless games that followed.It was selfish. Of course it was. High as kites but nearly free they cut each others strings that attached them to the chubby cheeked girl grounding them.

A Sunday night was always the best. The fever would last for hours then sleep came so sweetly trickling in under their lids, flickering the lights. Clouds moved slowly. Blinking I held the power to make them stop. Magic? No just the drugs.

That meant next morning you would go fishing baiting the line in hope to drag it in. If it came like the tides biggest waves it would rush through every where touching inside and bringing back the slightest smile from the yester-night.

Ridges and grooves. Spinning circles in white petticoats around the room. Bad voices yell at the top of their lungs along to blurred words that don’t quite carry the same punch as those from back in the day, yea he black as the street was. When Kanye used to rap some sense into the world and Lupe was just feeding those hurt souls.

Tingles in my toes. Hehe giggles splurge falling helplessly noisily snortily all over the floor. Up the walls his laugh is louder gaining height fast getting dizzy almost light headed. Faint? No its just the drugs.

A small weapon, cold and hard. Beautiful. Ice heart. Characters bouncing out from Narnia. Why? Its our imaginations bro.

The Cheshire cat pays us a visit. Its midnight. His stomach is cramping with the cold. Maybe it’s the dancing. Who knows? Billy. Billy swims in the water, choppy but glassy just like drowning. Cymbals striking in the distance. No its thunder. Haha. Just kidding. Going deaf. Is it the music? No its our ignorance.

Its all cut up. Grinding back teeth, luring eyes and tickling lashes. Lulled. False sense of pretence. Pft and that word means what?

Dreams about babies imagine waking up pregnant. Were you raped in your sleep? No I’ve changed my name to Mary. Oh I forgot, you don’t have a uterus.

Kids cartoons and chilling in the magic tree which seems faraway. Climbing rough bark on skinny shins. The baby will be called Aihurangi. Your weird with your Maori. Hey Fuck Off Spanish Boy.

A bach. Running out of water mad teens collecting rain drops in billies, gumboots, chillybins, buckets. Oyster shells peeled prized off the more solid rock. Slippery insides. Yuck. Don’t think we’ll try those for a while. Beer bottle holds up a stub of waxy light. Inside the rain is soft and the moths flick from one bulb to another drawing patterns across their eyes. Sockets empty of wires. Left useless. Husbands huh. We talk mostly about endings. About next week, next year. Not much about yesterday. Its been, gone, done and dusted. Exactly the boring kind of charm that pleases the mother figure. Fat load of good she did. Taught me bum all next to nothing. Whistle in the darkness. For the dog? Or the new pet snail.

Slippery is a slippery word. It glides off your tongue like honey. No it doesn’t honey is sticker than PVA glue. Something slippery I can’t think only of a snail trail and that makes me think of bruce. The line of hair trailing away from his belly button way down to way down where.

Hats are like frying pans. Theres always too many when you don’t need them. That’s a new simile bet janet frame didn’t discover that i shall deliver it to her grave. Her kete was full of korero. Jumbled up though on paper everything looked straight to the frizzy orange haired hero.

I want to forge my way into their lives like the smoke smell lingering so they don’t forget at least for awhile exactly who I am. One step at a time maybe a perfume that leaves stains invisible to the eye. I think my tiptoes are silent but the house moves in a different direction to my sneaking travels. A giggle. He is sitting waiting cliché in the moonlight. Oh how romantic. Waiting for a pipe and the magic of a puffing dragon.

Numbers my hated enemy they are too clever too wise i hold the world close for the comfort of words will never escape me.

Fat then thin all im doing is trying to decide if I really want to fit in.