I found it I fond it!!

Jealousy was consuming her... And not gracefully, more like how a toddler consumes spaghetti, long and messy. He looked sideways at her. She hated his sideways glance, it reminded her too much of a crocodile., if those bastards could last on this earth that long, then how much could he get away with? Or how long was she going to let him get away with it? "You stupid bitch", why did Kassandra all of a sudden lose control of this relationship, why, after all this time, did she think she could just relax? Miscarriage, phantom pregnancy, Mum's death, there were reasons for him to not fuck around.


Without a word she flipped open the louvres, as if it was their fault the sun wasn't shining into their room. As she laid down on the mattress, she flicked her long curls back over the pillow, crocodile eyes again. She loved watching him get dressed for work, seeing his broad shoulders being covered with the hideous council workers fluro yellow. She loved how he wore footy shorts under his work pants, it made him more... More... Who cares, with his legs it made her jingilly! Crocodile eyes as he walks out of their room to the kitchen, she waited for the sound of his cup of tea being made, the "ting ting ting" of the spoon in the camp pannikin. That was how they communicated in the morning, through tea and damper.


No "ting ting ting", no slamming of the milk tin lid, NOTHING! Like a ninja she jumped to her feet, walking outside, if only she had a gun she would be like Bridget Fonda in 'Assassin'. Boots on the dirt outside and a car pulling up, this bastard is going to work without having a cup of tea, "BARRR", he booted Princess, they dog he got her for her birthday. He reckon full-blood mastiff, but she can see camp dog in her eyes. The car door slams, she runs, rock presents itself and BAM! Back window busted. "You don't wanna have breakfast hey you cunt, well fuck you, go fuck that bitch, go make tea at her house, what she feeds your empty hole too hey". Door flies open, steel caps hit the dirt, crocodile eyes widen. 


Kassandra, run bitch run. 


Good morning world, love can be a real bitch.

My first blog! Plus 'Wild Passionfruit'.

Up until now, I have never seen or valued the worth of blogs. I mean, who really wants to read a daily blog from some individual, who you may or may not know that may or may not live on the other side of the world? Answer: Plenty of people love it you numb-nut!! So I wanna now become that person who lives on the other side of the world who you may or may not know, and hopefully my blogs will be interesting. So, as a starting place I am going to start writing a creative piece of writing everyday.

Here is my first piece...

My feet curl within themselves, sharp feelings, and they curl within even more, in defenses. My precious asian-lady (possibly student) cared for feet. I call, all the primitive gut of my voice now gone, but I still call. A cool breeze splashes against my face, a tease within the fire. Internal fire, external fire. Shake it, shake it, SHAKE IT FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Look at yourself, look really, really hard at yourself. I call out again, am I really fucking calling out or what? Then that smell, that fragrance, that aroma... It's wild, it's sweet, and it's known. I know it, I grew up with this smell, this smell means something to me. Note to self: Stop blocking out childhood stuff, comes handy when your trying to be lost.

A big breeze again, and it's got something for me. Like a waiter bringing you the bill, proud as punch, judging you as he lands it on your table. "Yes bitch I can afford it, now get me a fucking mint you povo fucking uni student".

That smell, blowing, blowing, blowing... WILD PASSIONFRUIT! Wild passionfruit, those little orange bally-shaped things that grew on that vine. I know that smell, wild passionfruit. Every time I picked the fruit I would take her some, she smiled at me, gammon like she loved wild passionfruit. She didn't love it, she just loved me. My feet are turning into balls of meat and bone. They are hurting.

Then that bird calls, the wind picks up the sound and rushes it to me. I hate you bird, the sun's still out. Call out at night like your meant to...

Then I know, I tried to get lost, just like I am trying to be found.

Wild Passionfruit.