stop standing on my throat

inability to breathe

constant hic-cup

ing tear duct

forming eye

left of centre (shopping)

left of center (heart)

tie these hands up

wrists in twine

brown like the mud stuck in between my toes

not all of my toes

just the last three (because they are significantly smaller than the rest and a susceptible to trapping mud)

mother of the ship

big toe pointers

off to the directional

pull of my heart string

i wrestle the words within the purgatory of that space

evens between mind and tongue

they come out into the world as blurry as my visions do the past

(is that because the past is irrelevant and the NOW is relevant?)

date trees look like gigantic pineapples

tear ducts filling though the ability to release has since departed

many, many moons ago

crying sweethearts in the background

of internet cafes they depict a perfect family living happily without shoes or electricity (because we protest over environmental pillaging)

i do my best to mingle with you real world folk

i do my best even though we do not speak a the same language

thank God for sign

gluten free rice paper rolls

perhaps my inability of speech is infecting the rest of the opportunities i have to practice the English language or participate in conversation

"i want to oxygenate myself" nicholas baker

i keep chanting like a mantra

mind over throwing like rugs over a worn out wooden floor

floor boards to cover what we have dug beneath the foundations of our queenslander home

asbestos has killed more people than puffer fish

but the exact numbers have not been confirmed.

yesterday i researched all the different varieties of weevils.

they are gross, but there are like a billion different varieties of them.