So...I suppose those of you reading this journal have a few questions. Well, here are some answers to what I think could be the FAQ, answered in a most eloquent and unambiguous way.

1. WHERE THE F*** HAVE YOU BEEN!?

Where the rainbow ends, where the seas sink into in sky. Um...actually, just Uni. It's been taking up a lot of time and I sort of got over this place for quite a while. Such a shame...And also, it's none of your God damned business.

2. Hey, you live in the Sydney area. Will you be involved in World Youth Day?

No. As flat as possible. No.

3. Did you miss me?

Aw! Of course I did!

4. Out of pure curiousity, what are you doing in Thursday 17th July? Cause I was hoping we could hang.

Sorry! I'm seeing The Dark Knight! It's gonna be awesome.

5. Are you always this bizzare?

Haven't you read any of my work?

6. No. You've been gone so long.

Jeez, I'm sorry. I'll try put some new stuff up soon for y'all.

7. Thanks!

You're welcome.

8. Gonna look at my stuff?

Gonna try!

Sorry, they really stopped being relevant questions then, didn't they? In fact, they ceased being questions at all...

This is is but flesh and faith...

ALPHA\\
This one clings so tight: she is scared of being alone.
This one stays despite some sins: "Nothing better will come."

BETA\\
This one, maybe she likes the control?
And he? He loves her so.

KAPPA\\
She oh she is just so warm, so he will never leave.
And he oh he is just as sweet...moreso now he's cut his hair.

DELTA\\
This little petal sits alone...probably more deserving than the rest,
As she counts the seconds it takes for the moon to break through the clouds.

EPSILON\\
This one's mine rhymes with gate, and she adores him so.
And his one girl rhymes with glee, strange, cause that's what she gives him.

Oh wow...sorry guys...I got into a serious thing there...so...I think I might have a BO problem, but don't tell my fairy god mother. You know, she's so particular about her smells, what with the carriage made from onion thing (she had run out of pumpkins the previous night).

"You cannot stop me - not with wine or vows or the weight of age. You are nothing – a hollow shell, a rusty trap that cannot hold me. Smoldering, I burn you. Burning you, I flare, bright and fierce and beautiful. For I am your soul. You cannot escape me."

Guess who's back?

Well, after a considerable absence, I'm back.

I really haven't been on much, considering that I've been on holidays for the last month...

No real excuses. Books, video games, friends...stuff...

But yeah, like I said. I'm back.

I think.

Pretty sure.

Just letting you know.

Poetry is undefined. She has no form.

Poetry is pure. It can only come from the heart. Words that come from the head are prose.

Poetry is what gives emotions the power of expression.

Poetry is something to fight over and to cry over. Treat her as you would the love of your life.

Poetry is about experimenting with the language and pushing the boundries of the lexicon. She must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to stagnate.

Poetry is boundless. She has no rules, and she cannot be tamed. She is a wild beast that escapes through your fingertips, ravishing your soul and razing mighty empires to the ground.

Poetry is essence. She is the Muses gliding from Olympia, and she is the Furies stalking from Hades.

She is everything.