Mouse trap.

We loved like a game of Operation, 

No matter what card you drew, 

you always went for the heart.

You were clumsy. 

Hands shaking, lights buzzing 

your surgical kit seemed to consist only of scalpels.

You drew blood faster than I'd ever been able to donate.

This isn't heartbreak, 

it's malpractice.

Calligraphy.

It was the night after our graduation.

I finally paid lip service to my youth long infatuation.
Scrawled a late night dictation
of my heart against your ribcage.

Love letters made
With promiscuous ink
on a pale skin page.

A long tale 

though one only ever destined to be 

a short term story;

manuscripts never seem to read the same

come morning.

Come sobriety,

the time that we slip clothes 

back over naked bones

and love letters fade until

they become just another shade of your skin tone.

'Be Changed' Australian Tourism Ad

Holy wow.

I am in awe of this man.

'This your Atlas

a map of the experiences you manage to capture.

We've been waiting, 

but this place has a patience.

A greatness that doesn't try to make you feel late

just welcome when you finally arrive.

Just trees?

Just water?

Nah, just perfect.

Be moved by the vastness of this one open moment. 

We are in motion.'

- Bravo Child

My ticket stub banquet.

Here, we never go hungry.

We are too full on hope

gorged on ambition.

We will never be comfortable with the concept of permanent residency

Home has always been a foreign language.

We sit instead, 

hands outstretched,

in airport alleyways.

We are not asking for money.

We are begging for change.