On Looming Gentrification.

How many deaths
Do you die in a week?

Little deaths like diamonds
Or rare artworks of
Intricate paper

Popping brain cell deaths
Bubble wrapping snaps
With each sip of wine

Balloon deflating slow deaths
From a cadaverous glare
By a disingenuous boss

The sound of the present
Dying as it groans
Into my past

The death of hope
The death of youth
the death of faith

But a little metaphysic
Tickle in my noggin
A jostle of my medulla

At the base of my brain
A primal tickle
All twee and shy

The tickle of hope
In the pit of
Pandora's box

What is growing there
New life laid bare
By a burning ego

How many lives
Do you live in a week?

Coburg Demolition Site.

This, my derelict
Crumpled mess
Concrete cancer
Memory steeped.

My glistening youth
Hecticly spent
Dog-eared teen novels
Sticky taped punk
Singer's
Dials faded

A girl's room

Watch closely as I
Emerge from the walls
Can you smell me?
Taste my presence
Alighting on your tongue?

Somewhere still behind
The paint, in a crack
Along an architectural
Fault-line
Lies my dusty skin.

This place contains my DNA
Now it contains yours
Rub your hands together
Scratch your head
Lose an eyelash

And your story remains
With mine,
Entwined.