Welcome to Perth.
It feels like I’ve been stabbed in the heart, blade puncturing through my lungs, prohibiting me from breathing. Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, again and again, until the semi-intoxicating trance I once existed in barely breathing sets in between the neurons and synapses in my brain once more. It feels there’s a dark fog forming underneath my eyelids and I can’t see what I’m meant to see, I can’t do what I’m meant to do, and I can’t feel what I’m meant to feel.
It feels like I’m alive, but slowly dying.
My heads a little heavy and my hearts a little hard, but I’m alive, and I’m breathing I know, because I can feel something.
And feeling something is better than feeling nothing.
The flames gone
I watched it burn
With a fling and flicker, twist and turn
The flames gone I watched it fade
Wither and melt, in the heat it was made
The flames faded
My minds jaded
The righteous and wicked,
Why do you inflict it?
Sunshine and rain, we grow.
The friction of this addiction
is a contradiction of the fact,
my conviction of the unseen,
in my lucid dreams
and a reality that is obscene.
So I hide my pride
and procrastinate to decide
what’s true inside -
I befriend the end,
in the breakdown of the bend,
into a blend of lies and liberty
the fruit from the tree will set me free.
Here, today, I find my way,
breathe and believe,
no longer deceive the eve
of my existence
Resistance comes with persistence
of ghosts and ghouls,
the cruel jewel
that drips from my lips
into a pool of drool.
Tuesday 21st May, 2013 - Mooloolaba, Sunshine Coast 8:30am
It’s beautiful here - in the place I once called home. It still is home, more than anywhere else I’ve lived in the world. I look out over the Pacific, and switch my focus to a land far far away, across that large mass of water. Gentle winds run through my hair, kissing my cheeks before moving on to the next person, place, moment, memory.
How do I capture this fragment of paradise, before the moment fades away into what once was?
I sat on the roof of my parents house the other night with my best friend, and gazed at the sky above us as the gentle zephyrs from the Indian Ocean soothed our souls. The moon lit a path on the ocean breathing in the west, urging us to walk it, and we will one day, we will.
In 50 days we depart this Great Southern Land for the magic and mystery of Peru. In August we go our separate ways - Laula staying in South America, myself setting foot on my last continent before backpacking through Europe for my 4th time.
I won’t be back here in a long time, this much I know. And as the days turn to months, then years, my story will long be forgotten, but the memory of all those sleepless nights spent sitting on that roof, gazing out to the unknown will forever remain my sanity when I think back to this place.