I see iris's in my sleep,
as wind chimes blow upon...
My loves will never know-
unless they read the lines I write...
Sometimes I want to bleed,
To feel the red running down my flesh...
Dragging his snow-kissed skin
along unpaved darkness...
I miss them moments, like the rain
like Xanthe, showering PnQ with fame...
From lung to mouth
to the air. I try to write your...
She works hard
Making dreams bigger than anything she'll ever...
With such care and delicacy
she carries flowers in her hand...
Her face wore a blizzard
as the curtain bid adieu...
Somehow I felt the urge
to rip myself apart again tonight...
You are
The Queensland cane fields I keep...
Over the rigid and dreary mountains,
down by the riverside, amidst withered stalks...