what number.

cursing over swollen lips and turrets
of our innane search to combat our ferocious jealous
of almost imperfection
and forget to realise how oblivious our nature is
to reject the impartial and hopeless
the arcid and racuous happenings

they miss the crudness faced by those gone before

those trapped in alleyways on rancid nights
and their arduous attempts to free themselves from the bitterness
of reality.

those gone by hand or gun and forced to have their brains splattered
across the neatly arranged grass, simply seen as toys to play with
bowling pins placed for enjoyment and the
joy to attaining power through slaughtering millions.

those left waiting for him to come home.

those asphyxiated by pressure to conform to nothing but conformity
to lose themselves in office shelves and heartless ruse.

those who were torn to shreds in appartment floors in inner london
limbs scattered from wall to wall, cherry floors, those who heard the screams but never
flinched or questioned intentions.

those who sit in streets with signs plastering lies simply to
relive themself for a night.

those who were thrown in the pyres, women thrown first as they burn more quickly
then men. there is always order.

those who threw themselves without a thought of ten story buildings and plastered
across the front of papers but not given a name.

We never get names of those who matter. Those who matter don't seem to matter.
We remember the maniacal introverts who slashed and bashed the innocent for their own
disgusting joy.

******* ***** who crucified 35 and wounded 21 in 1996.

**** ***** who kidnapped and slaughtered 7 in backpackes murders in the 1990s

****** ****** blasted 60 and injured numourous others in the 2002 bali bombings

****** ******* who killed 148 and committed countless crimes against humanity

******* ******** who murdered 10 after firing 200 rounds in a residential neighborhood in 2009

****** **** who shot 12 in New York in the fall of 2009.

those who hate and hurt, who slice and dice, who ruin lives and steal jewels off our surface will be remembered but those who cry for help or pass in their sleep will be a number.

so amid your ruthless and pointless fights simply pause. Just ask.

what number will you be?

schoolies.

drive down
down town
bottles opened
sorrows drown

night came
filled with vain
pretty ladies
fall in drains

blue and red
messy beds
raving reptiles
hearts that bled

short skirts
loud bursts
staring strangers
endless flirts

lost trust
filled with lust
two days down
and we're all bust

liquored up
harshly cut
endless dancing
doors are shut.

we're blind
we're pissed
we're drunk
we're gone

we're fucked and boozed
and boozed and fucked
we're too prepared
to push our luck.

one am
and two and three
the nights beginning
for you and me.

two million steps

Whispering in hallways, no sound to be left
Incriminating driveways, ripped up
Friends and enemies, shot in the hip
No mercy.
Harrowing cries, and harking songs
Pieces of what, left in a pool
Of blood, sweat and tears
Of lucky escapades and shocking truths
Of sadness and loss
The broken woman’s scream, resonating soft
No mercy.
Tied and bound on rugged steps
Scared and haunted greens we leave
Hands torn by steaming trains
Open hearts left free to roam
No strings.
Together, tomorrow, tonight
We leave.