Don’t Ask

Stomach churning, stiff neck,

Sunday funday sunday sad day.

Grey echoes in the air,

Lonely yet needing to be alone.

You Alright?

Speaking through closed doors,

The world pries with shadowy fingers.

Nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong.

Don’t ask, please.

I don’t have the reasons, and you don’t have the answers.

A voice within a voice within a voice,

Can you hear my silence?

Listen harder,

and don’t ask me.


Can’t you see you’re making it worse?




From South Australia to Far North Queensland

Since I moved North, I have noticed a few things about the people up here that differ from back home.

  • Instead of ‘pool’ or ‘school’, they say ‘pewl’ and ‘skewl’. Bathers, or bikinis, are called ‘toggs’, and a third person is often referred to as ‘old mate’. As in, ‘Hey Em, can you pass this to old mate over there?’ 
  • It’s always hot. Even when it’s cold, it’s hot. My roommate with complain about the ‘freezing’ mornings while I still need an air-conditioner to get to sleep. In summer, you need approximately five showers a day, give or take.  
  • The traffic lights take forever to change. Get caught at a red light, expect to be there a while. I’m used to it now, but when I first got here I had some serious impatience induced road-rage.
  • Far fewer coffee snobs than down south. Is it because it’s too hot to drink coffee? Either way, it took me a long time to scope out all the decent coffee spots.
  • Almost everyone has a tattoo, or many. An ink-less person is a rarer sight than an inked one. Me and my cool temporary tattoos I bought online don’t fit in here.   


Oh, and there’s one more thing that really gets me about this place. Beaches, beaches everywhere but not a spot to swim.

Yeah, and when it’s not stingers, its crocodiles