recently i travelled to aotearoa
it began with some vague sensibility about something and nothing
thinking nothing really, but some lines and fuzzy black cloud castles
i felt hanging
i felt like i had holes to fix
and darkness to face
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then i entered the web of me own mind
it was a bit chaotic in there
oredered and churned
mixed on mountains, fused in whanae
blessed and cursed all at once
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it's always a bit messy
the poetry was profound
the speaking even more painful
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then i left
and sat in the bris-bane sub way
as the trains burned i waited and wiated
fixated by commuters in their underground
a world of no sunlight
i was patchy and delirious
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reality seemed orderd to me really
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then i flew home
lines, triangles, webs and icicles later
i realise that i am far more at home
when the ferns unfold
when the sun shines
and fire burns
but i like drawing
i like giants
i like X
and being silly
so there