and now he is dead. i will light a candle for you who i know only for your shoes and say an athiests prayer.

The fear has gone, the shock has gone a massage has taken the ache from my arms. Another little death has happened in me.

Three crows flew past my window. There is a22 year old boy in a hospital attached to life support. I saw his life ebb and flow to the concrete. Around his head a halo of blood. He was wearing cowboy boots. He was young, his life was different , I never new it. All I know of it is the hole it left in a window, the colour it left on the ground. The imprint it left on the man who saw him land head first he said he bounced. That man is angry now, he said fucking niggers, he wants to kill them. The dying boy leaves hate behind him and goes into light. Behind him too is regret, the boy on the stairwell who didn’t call the police when I asked him to, who didn’t understand that it wasn’t just a fight, that people were being viciously attacked for no reason. He cried to me if only I had done something I cry to him if I hadn’t of tried to stop them coming back in there might not be a mark on the concrete which has the boys memory, which holds his stain. Regret. I have stains on my body my bruises are small my arms ache from our struggle but what hurts is the regret

The homicide sergeant told me that the boys they arrested were 17 and 18. he told me that there was not much hope for the one in cowboy boots. he thanked me for my help, he thanked me for my concern and he hung up. That is the last I will know. The most I will know. Not his name. he is just another image burned in my retinas, along with a litany of guilt, I am not afraid to die but I never want to see another person suffer, that’s my new years resolution close my eyes and block my ears I am a child and when I do the world will disappear if only for a second. I reprimand myself for my melodrama for the fact of it is that comparatively, this is a small incident in the world, a minor sentence. the herald sun gave it about 30 words and a few of them were wrong. I know what im like, I know that what I am writing is sentimental, over reacting I must just get past it, let it out of my body. But I feel like I breathed in something that wont dislodge, spirit world, rage vapor, some dark place has seen me and taking pictures with its eyes it has taken my soul.

The crazy eyes the wide and crazy eyes, possession would look like that I can understand how psychosis could be taken for it. Violence I have rarely seen it, so when I do I feel like a train has run me down. A train with wide crazy eyes, a body I have touched, a mind I couldn’t see. in him just the devil, the devil doesn’t need a reason, he doesn’t listen to words. He ricochets, he twists , he whirls in hate. Out his pores comes the knowledge that nothing exists, time has stopped, skips, plays backwards and we embrace, I am possessed, I am his exterior, I am his back, I know his fist we move together, him and I, one world spinning. I know that the world is violence, I know that somewhere there is always blood, this wide eyed child, what have his eyes seen? what has his body known, what strange circles has he spun to so that his whirlwind just cant stop from spinning , that the world is his enemy, that a man on the ground is his anger, that his kicks are his voice , that we are all just particles of dust, noise in the darkness. The darkness that moves and breathes and is a barrier to his release that must be smashed to the ground. I am lucky I walk away. I don’t sit in jail now, I don’t lie dying, I didn’t bleed. And its just a moment in time, I turn my back on it now and walk away, I am not you, I will never see your eyes again and I will never hold you in my arms, me and you gone from each other, I wish peace for you both , innocent possessed blameless and fallen. Human beings and circumstance life is impermanent and what we have can fall to the ground and break.

i cant write anything here anymore i am too aware of my little marketing manager telling random folk , like its the combination to my diary being spread to the world mostly welcome but still an audience to your diary is an audience to your diary. If you read this between 10pm and 9am you might read something and then its gone by 9:30am a cycle of imperminance so maybe i should get a diary hey and just post pictures and safe little anecdotes dunno dunno dunno