Junky Waking from the interzone Stretches out his eyelids And blinks into the blearing bedlight. Washed out, He clips into the cotton To dream about something Better than the all-day nothing. Halloween candy, razor blades. Cockroach Is tweaking for the nightfall As he’ll be shaking up a can then, yes! He’’ll have all the means to make him SHAKE it SHAKE it like a polaroid But that’s not even real though Like I’m pretty sure it warps the picture. Halloween candy, razor blades.

If I had a clone machine, there’d be a thousand copies of me in different places all at the same time doing all of the things that the others wished that they were doing as they do all of the things that the others wished that they were doing. However, if I could simply thread a fourth-dimensional needle through the fabric of the space-time continuum and stitch together all my shifting realities, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t even need a clone machine. If I could realify a dream, I’d inhale all air had to offer. My kite ribs would expand and I’d ascend Toward some me-shaped hole in the clouds. But I Swing like a baseball bat Into the mailbox of all else I’d rather And I Do it all for someone That’s not even looking, that’s not even there. If I had a time machine I’d go back in time to make a great big bank deposit to watch compound interest growing and with this money I’d fund the development of a time machine to make a great big bank deposit in the past so that I could watch compound interest growing and with that money I would fund the development of a time machinePhased through the fabric, I watch the scene unfold. A machine's wreck lies by a body, skin embeds cheap cotton seats. Clipboard shudders, pen jots, “no recall required (yet)”. to make a bank deposit in the past so that I could watch compound interest growing and with that money I would fund the development of a time machine to make a bank deposit in the past so that I could watch compound interest growing and with that money I would fund the development of a time machine to make a bank deposit in the past so that I could watch compound interest growing and with that money I would fund the development of a time machine But I Shoot like buckshot Into the product without profit And I Do it all for a satellite That’s always listening, that’s always there. I have a mouth and I must not scream. Gravity runs away from me, Faster than I fall.

I wish that I could listen to music But I left my headphones at home. Strangers talk; walking white noise, Their thoughts squeeze against my own and implode. Steps drip-drop onto pavement, Rain rings around the crowd. I try to split my route from the walkway But the tar keeps pulling me in. No one’s holding my hand, I’m clinging to the air. Gravel-gazing bobbleheads lurk everywhere. I bound; I’m bound. Make the train and ride for the weekend, Feel the window rattle through my head. Sculpt futures just to inhale the fumes Of a fire that’s never there. I think I'll take the day off for a while, Let it seethe right behind the clouds Until I rip off my headphones and listen To the wind blowing through my ears. No one’s holding my hand, I’m clinging to the chair. Glass-gazing bobbleheads lurk everywhere. All the blinkers on all the cars blink in perfect time As the sinking sun dyes the walls of the train in the colour of daydreams. With eyes wide open, I dream. With sleep, I prolong the dream out into a wide, open space, A space where nothing, no thing can hinder me. Yet, I am hindered.

TDC: 51498 Position: CAS Salesperson Date of Termination: 10th of February, 2020 Reason for Termination: Casual no longer required

The worst part about dying in my dream house Is that now I’ll have to haunt it for a while. Everything’s familiar but strangely disorientating… I’m not there but I’m there, watching all The tears fall and fade into the soil Before everyone else follows suit. I’ll see how my room will be cleared and perhaps How a friend might see light peeking out from underneath the door. They’ll think for a brief second that I’m still there, Still breathing rather than just, y’know, still. However, the best part about haunting my dream house Is that, at some point, it ends… sort of, anyway. I’ll watch as the wrecking ball swings, kills, I’ll watch as the rising ocean claims the wrecked hall. Soon after that, or, I guess, during that, My soul will be released into the air. The birds will form a wall of sound around me And their fuzz, distortion will engulf me. I know stars exist. Plastic flutes on a tray on my hand; Another job will end before it begins. This fear has become Pavlovian; With every step I'm prepared to fall With my back against the wind, Waving goodbye to the faces of friends Whose names I can never remember, Never remember. Weeding ivy from my head, I'll paint my dome all green instead. You people held guns to your heads And told me, told each other that life's worth living As if any of this was anything, As if anything would be worth what it is that we all did. And I fell. I fell for it, I’m always falling Into the line of fire of the cop in my head His right arm is raised and I’m to the left of him. Sunlight leaking from my face, Better drain it all before it’s traced. Dear Cameron, Thank you for your assistance throughout your employment period. We hope you enjoyed the experience at Chadstone, and we hope you are able to take the skills you have learnt here with you to your future endeavours. We have attached a letter of employment termination, as you are aware we had contracted for casual, however due to not enough shifts. Please don’t hesitate to get in contact with us if you have any questions. Have a lovely day. Regards, The Management Team. I wanna be a groundskeeper with my best friend racoon.

I leave my sweater with Darcie, She needs it more than I do. I drive down Burke Rd, I break my neck to keep the fuel above empty. I pull into the service station; Half a tank later, I leave. I hope I didn't leave the gas cap popped off, I hope nobody flicks a cigarette at just the right time, at just the right angle, And makes a fire out of me; well, Me and my machine, machine, machine.

Running to the echo of footsteps, Running toward the return route home. Every building is a stranger, Every window is an eye. From the opposite reciprocal, The tram, it bounds toward me. My feet make waves amidst concrete Toward right angles, intersecting. Too much running runs me out of breath But suddenly, I can breathe again. Pursuing the second that I’m living in Takes me back to where I’ve never been. There’s so much noise around the edge of silence, There’s so much noise around the edge of silence, There’s so much noise around the edge of silence, And all you sailors look like sirens. A DIY death star awakens, It dawns against a golden sea. Red dots scatter, concentrate, And coalesce atop my knee. Tumbleweeds cloud my mouth, My head, my eyes, my everything. A laser rips right through the air; I lose all movement the moment I used it. Everything is so much easier When there’s no world outside. Leaves from the vine, Falling so slow, Like fragile tiny shells, Drifting in the foam. Little soldier boy, Come marching home, Brave soldier boy, Comes marching home.

Moonlit puddle huddled by the gutter, He looks up to me as if I were his brother. With a mouth-forming smile, he says, “I’ve seen your face in stranger places…” “Come inside where it’ll be okay, Rest away your weekends beside the flames.” An inch deep, yet a metre deeper, “Come and swim where I can reach you…” Outside, outside! It’s close, it’s so close! I’ll get away from this place that you haunt every time You’re drowning in the floodlights And you suffocate me ‘til you’re able to breathe. Haunt becomes hauntee, Movement becomes me. I gurgle while there’s air to blow Within this shallow sea. He pulls the strings, he pulls them still, Fulfil the force, fulfil it ‘til I’ve done bad things and now My teeth, they chatter, chatter still. (Haunt becomes hauntee, Movement becomes me. Hauntee becomes haunt, I become movement).

In the bright lights of a late night, They’ll shut the door and fade away. Left in the darkness of the car’s interior, No one will ask if you get home safe. Five stars in the glow of infinite, Clip yourself through the door. Take out your wallet, phone, and keys, Now wonder why you ever even go out at all. You’re a homebody, You’re a homebody, You’re a homebody with no home and no body, I - Late nights in front of bright light, Visiting sites of the dead. Crickets hum to the mini electri-cities Scoring the thoughts inside your head. Cross-legged upon a springboard Flicking digital matches into digital pools Until the analog sun reminds you of yourself And you wonder why you never even go out at all. You’re a nobody, You’re a nobody, You’re a nobody with no phone and no wallet, I - Charlie, my friend, I don’t see you anymore. Remember all those sunny days we spent indoors? We lived in a house of cards ‘til the wind blew past it, What a shame, oh, what a shame; Wish we could’ve done more.

I’m turning 20 in two days, The day on which the world will end... Or at least it seemed that way when I wrote that lyric. I’m over that hill now. And now, I rise, And I am everywhere. I pick myself up, piece by piece, Piece by piece, until I fall asleep. And now, I dream, And I could be anywhere But budding worlds beset me blind To leave something behind and never arrive. There’s a voice in my mouth, It’s droning all the time, Halloween candy, razor blades. There’s a cop in my head With a gun against my temple, he says Halloween candy, razor blades. There's a haunt in my eyes, And he’s always there, always taunting Halloween candy, razor blades. There’s the world in the wind, and it rips right through my ears, screaming - I want my sweater back.