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This City does not care for Drunks or those with Fast-Paced Minds.

The taxicab smells of stale beer and
half-gone friendships and
I am lost

Tumbling dimensions.
The precautionary naivety of
young men
home for birthdays
home for christmas
home when home is just a name
just a concept, lost,
just a thought as foreign
as the white-gold sands of Egypt.

These notes they sound the same when played in tandem
not all too dissimilar
to this.

Third-wheel to the world, the pallid sky,
to that girl kissing a boy in your lliving room
while you sit outside with tufts of grass,
pull upwards till they break.

They break.

We break.

I break into

pieces (roll down a grassy hill till dizziness
then stumble home
like I
stumble now).

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
My writing has felt a bit stale lately, went back and completely re-did a draft I had sitting there for months. This is the result. Thanks for giving it a read.
Editing stage: 


in the sense that it demands a voice. Please let me know if you ever do live readings in Sydney.

Onya for sticking with it when you felt stale, this truly is an 'art and sullen craft'.
All I can offer you on this one is a reading, do with it what you will, whether as an aid to objectivity or to post where you will.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

Really appreciate the feedback, helps keep me at it. Love the readings as well. I'm hoping to go perform more stand up poetry in the new year, so I'll definitely let you know.

All the best,


author comment

I'm on mobile so I can't write much at the moment, but I love this one.

I feel the staleness, especially this time of year. I spend all year looking forward to a break at winter and summer then it never relieves me the way I hope it will. I somehow forget I'm the one who does all the cleaning, cooking, and taking care of everyone so my break isn't much of a break. But that's "home", just like you wrote.

Take care,

Critique, don't comment.
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