Distance

You mouth my words

Giving them your own truth

Get stuffed

And bury your pessimist thoughts

I don't beg for cobblers

You are talking 

While walking on building blocks

Of your hoards of experienced notes

I'm setting off

Believe it or not...

 

Why is that so

That distance hurts

Like lynching on plantations

Like torturing convicts

By seven-year long labour

In New Wales Colony

Annexed by Phillip Arthur 

And his admiral agony

26 January makes sparklingly dizzy

Every Ozzie

Being so preposterously dinky

And 1788's numbers are coiling

Like lion's roaring

 

Distance so untouchable

And yet felt 

Felt like thousand whisks

Of forks in a bowl of eggy texture

Like beating yolks

Into white snow

 

Wrinkles on my fingers

Sniffing sky's funny drug

Flowing into my blood vessels

Aorta and other pumping 

Life preserving cornerstones

Music dancing in ear plugs

Blurting out the background

To my swimming

Among a cloudy sound

Like a doll 

Blinking bitter blobs of fears

Like a puppy

Wiggling its tucked tale

Between rear o-shaped legs

Shuffling in the gassy ocean

Trying to hide my intimidation

Chin up and thumbs sucked in

Cheeks poked inwards

Like Geisha's rosy middle 

Of her loyal lips

Talking with a lisp... rather little

 

Hands bleeding 

Out of all the rubbing

Staining my lap

Like a red rivulet

Absorbed by a sanitary pad

Crams in my body

Itching twitching like a tick

I wanna be chic

Being high is truly hypnotic

But watch out!

Landing is our crew now!