Nothing exciting here...

[Antechinus sapiens]

Hokay, so I've been letting myself get lax as far as exercising the most important organ of mine body - my mind. I've been doing lotsa work for ooniversiteh, but not much creative writing. None at all, actually. So yeah, here's some stuff that I've just been doing to try and get back in the habit. It's nothing exciting. Far from it, but yeah, I thought I'd share it with you good peoples, just because.


Hokay, so this is just something that was going through my head when I was listening to a song (Mindcage by Thrill Kill Kult, in case you were wondering, and in case you weren't.)

That not warm, not cool, no-air-at-all feel in the air, occasionally contradicted by the slight brush of icy chill wind-fingers. Not enough to be uncomfortable - just enough to send a slight shiver down your spine that makes your eyes flick-awake-open and the hairs on the backs of your arms stand to attention - cryogenically snap-frozen in the sliver of a comfortable moment. The twin scents of vanilla and coconut, strong enough to tease your nose with its presence, but not enough to get a noseful, or to even really notice it's there. That top-of-the rise rollercoaster sensation - a taut bow-string tied between the pit of your stomach and your collarbones. The feeling that gets you asking yourself "am I drunk or dizzy or worried or in love?" A slow drift off to sleep in a state of perfect yet slightly jangled contentment, eyes not heavy or tired or sore, just with no real reason to stay open, with nothing to look at.

[KD]

Cool.

[Antechinus sapiens]

Eyes as pale as the reflected moon
Laid out in state upon the ceiling.
Blind to all except the loudest tune
And the keyhole you're revealing.
Valves rattle shut inside their case
Frigid pins tumble into place.
Vacuous ladies wilt and swoon
Their digits lost all feeling.

Eyes to me, twin ivory globes
That turn towards the long tomorrow.
They flash in time to unearthly strobes
No mere man can ever follow.
Rubber gloves save your static charge
For a quetzal still at large.
I'm all ears, just two huge lobes
The tripod of apollo.

Eyes forget so soon the carved tracks
Two make through the unstirred sand.
The sea rages forth and turns right back
Porcelain breakers in your hand.
Forever a beach-comber's prize
In the horizon of blind eyes.
Kept warm and dry upon a rack
But forever in demand.

[Antechinus sapiens]

He talked with a ghost that was deaf as a post.
They spoke of mammoth tracks
Lizzy Borden's wings and wax -
Give us today our daily chance.
Love for all the little clones,
A giant squid bycatch and fiendish collarbones.
Some people just can't pay the tax
Of a sticky-sweet insect romance.

A living obsession with a fragile possession
During this wholly holy daze
In the name of the latest static craze -
To admire one's part of the light.
Even when it's clear as day,
My third eye could melt the sun clean away.
It leaves the stems of a flower maze
And the most faithful kind of insight.

[Antechinus sapiens]

As I performed my daily ablutions I was visited by the shadow of a doubt
(Two invisible large green eyes perched upon the picture rail).
"Consider the hemispheres," it announced, all pomp, circumumstance and no levity.
"There, winter is summer and summer is winter!"
(Exclaimed said doubt, kicking cracks into the tiles.)
"What about the water, I hear you ask? Well I'll tell you!
"Here it goes one way, there it goes another
"And at the equator it goes straight down!
"Remember that next time you try to dig to China"
With that he vanished down the plughole, followed by a mermaid.

He never was much welcome round these parts.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]