With each trigger constantly one day away I feel the need to give up. What’s the use of running shoes if your demons keep pace. What’s the use of the old words when the new are all so golden in their own eyes. I’m leaving out the question marks because these questions need no answers. As rare as that is in my line of work. I just lay the day away with whiskey and cigarettes. Leaving out the poetry and just writing cold. I need a saviour as much as I hate it. But I notice everything so I know they aren’t coming. What a strange life. 


I’m wearing a skeleton jumpsuit and the injection missed the vein. So now my head just keeps talking to strangers as if I need a saviour. 

I listen to Twenty One Pilots and make predictions about what that golden shot was supposed to produce. But when I call 911 I get no dial tone like it’s flatlining in my ear.

It’s all impossible until it isn’t. It’s all a carefully laid out plan until it all goes wrong. And it’s all a joke until no ones laughing. Replaced by tears in four or five and then I write this piece.

In mythology every head of the snake thinks its leading the body. But there’s always another taking higher position and leading the rest like sheep to the slaughter.

I turn snakes into sheep and become the wolf. I lead no one anywhere because where I’m going you don’t want to follow. There’s too much to tell you, you just wouldn’t be prepared.

So when I play each upbeat melody it’s because it’s better to dance in the dark then scream at the sun. The sun doesn’t listen to any of us. It’s exploding just the same. 

Dear Pandora,

It is with great regret that I must write this letter. As I know our remaining time is short. I’ll try to get through it without tears but I make no promises.

You came into my world just after I lost the love of my life. It was a 1 terabyte hard drive with all my music on it. I even had Eminem’s Nail in the Coffin ffs. Needless to say it was a tragedy.

But then out of the ashes, came a shining beacon of light and hope and funk and old school Bob Dylan. It was you Pandora. It was you.

When we first met I must admit I didn’t think it was going to work out. I’d tell you how much I liked The Red Hot Chilli Peppers and you’d reply with some bullshit about a Nickleback song I just had to hear. 

I almost called it quits right there and resigned myself to a life full of cheap cross platform debauchery jumping from Spotify to torrents and old cds that survived the revolution of the early 2000’s. 

But when I told you what I liked and didn’t like it’s like you actually listened. It was as if our relationship grew from strength to strength and my thumbs had endless power. And I haven’t heard Nickleback since. For that alone I must thank you.

Honestly I never thought the fact that you were American would ever become a problem. If anything it made me like you more. But you lied to me Pandora. You said you had duel citizenship but now I find out you were only here temporarily. And that you are going home for good!?

It’s like the last 4 years we’ve spent together making our life’s playlist has been a complete waste. I promise I’m not angry. Just really disappointed. Don’t you remember all the good times we had?

I remember when your sweet voice would send me to sleep with Hozier and Milky Chance almost every night. Before you’d go to sleep exactly 30 minutes later as if somehow you were counting down the time.

The worst part is you didn’t even give a reason. I had to find out from Google that you’d had some kind of changes on the inside and you felt you needed to focus on yourself for a while.

But what about me Pandora? What am I going to do without my carefully mapped out Twenty One Pilots station? Did you even think of that when you ripped my heart out and put it on your thumbs down list? 

I mean, what if I came to you? Would you still be the same? If I went to visit you in the States would my Amity Affliction station still scream the same way and remember all the songs we liked to play together? 

I know you’ve been seeing other people this whole time and I didn’t have a problem with it because we’ve never been exclusive. But Pandora, can’t you find it in your heart to stay in Australia where everything we’ve worked so hard to build can thrive and flourish.

I can even live with the Australian Defence Force ads you talk so much about. It did get borderline creepy how badly you seemed to want me to join. But I guess I could consider it. As long as you are there by my side. 

I know this will probably fall on deaf ears. Which seems kind of ironic… But I promise if you give me another chance I’ll create the greatest station the world has ever seen. I mean WE will create it together. 

Think about it Pandora. We could be together forever. You just have to want it too. Don’t give up on us!

Yours from Australia,


Let’s feed the fire with green in our blood. Coursing through our veins and our brains making way for the space that makes you think outside the box.

My goal is to get better at this. The formulation of ideas put down into marks across the pages. Sometimes hidden. Sometimes heavy. Always full of heart.

A spartan soldier at the hot gates shows more honour in his last moments than any time before. Wings on his back. Lights in the sky. A way forward.

It’s amazing what you can conquer and how far you can reach when it’s just you, a sword and a shield. Or so were the days. 

Now it’s completely different.

If you asked me what I’m trying to say I’d probably say I’m really stoned. But inside I know that it’s words on a page. Making way for the eyes that might read it.

The etching across my skin helps me remember the good times. That slow release of pain that you just know will leave the prettiest mark. It’s where I find my meaning. In a world full of light and dark it’s always in the pain I feel the most brevity. Aching for that touch of force. Genuine in its severity. I know these lost pieces are all just waiting to be explored. To be patched and glued and nailed together. Like a burning church in the desert being rebuilt with a different name across the arches. I’ve been walking for hours towards that crystal blue oasis and as I lap at the waters edge I almost forget god. As the stars laugh. And make claim to new desires that can reach even further in the darkness that feeds on the lost and the willing. Even as I write this my thirst leans towards the bottle of whiskey that blurs every line. And it’s in the sound I pull the trigger on a lost cause and throw these words out into the night. The calm before the storm making way for the shattering thunder of my forgotten prayers. I still remember what it felt like to feel. Now we are fucking just to heal. 

I’ve travelled to the past and I live in the future. I’ve been to distant galaxies and travelled there and back in an instant. This may sound strange to some. But to me it’s just my life.

This shouldn’t concern you. After all, you are alive and breathing. But for some of us it’s like a giant puzzle we must solve before it all comes crashing down. We live inside this crazy with all eyes on us.

So listen carefully.

Because when the time comes I invite you to look through my eyes. To see what makes me tick, tick, tick. Because I’m not your usual, nor am I hear to teach. But maybe one or two souls can pick up a couple of tricks along their way.

I am the bearer of good news in a bad world. Delivering fragments of the soul to the waiting source. Knowing it will take some time to go through the hands of the guilty. Into the light, where we can all find forever.

When you live inside this intense system. It’s natural to start believing you matter, or worse you should preach. Both are wrong if you ask me. And it’s really not my style. 

I’d rather give you an order of words delivered in time. Cryptically waiting the correct set of eyes. This is part two of my manifest.

This is what’s left of my story. After I burnt every page of the first to save the world. 

Bukowski said ‘Don’t try’. 

So I’m trying really hard not to.

I just wake up in the morning and think about my dreams. And every other time we saw each other. 

I think about a life that may span this vast cosmos and the ghosts that cradle me while I sleep.

I think about a lot of things. But nothing compares to the thought of you.

But I don’t try. I promise.

For if I were to try, it might just make things worse. And waking up is bad enough.

After seeing you in my sleep.