Half Life /poetry

Just shitty late night drabbles really…

How will I know which time is the last?

In this half life we live where you switch between sides
Nothing certain or true
Except that I will lose

How will I know which time is the last?

In this half life we live where you make it
feel whole
Blinds casting shadows
As we remove clothes

So how do I know?

How do I know which kiss is the last
when present becomes past

space between us grows


How will I know which time is the-

As The Colours Run (Unfamiliar Ceilings) /prose

Let’s get personal…. (not pg13, kids. You have been warned.)

Written following Holi festival – where coloured powder is thrown during a large celebration.

It’s supposed to sound a little broken in rhythm? Rhyming isn’t usually my thing but it sort of just happened in this one (ha). I don’t know, I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but it was just one of those I needed to get out there.


I’m not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
Naked and laughing, colour streaking skin
The steam on high rise, bright rivulets run
The shower scorching above as our hands come undone.

Our ‘just friends’ lies are weaker.
Carefully constructed lines, cheaper.
Breath hitches
Your hands…

‘We need to stop’
Please don’t stop.

I’m still not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
From bathroom to bedroom, white covers, stained skin
Gasping against hollow, your neck, collarbone,
Give over the weakness to which we are prone
Your mouth…

‘Don’t start what you can’t finish’
You started me, now finish me-

The hourglass tips
The powder morphs black,
The tide drags my fingers desperately down your back,
Clutching hips, pulse, flow, bite and blood-

Touch me. Turn me.

Send me down in colour and fire
Send me down in waves

’Too much’
Not enough

Send me down –

into the blackest of night where something just snaps
where the tiptoeing and ‘just friends’ facade cracks,
your hips making up for all your words lack-

‘I can’t’
I am

One hand seizes hipbone, the other nape of my neck,
as we ebb, flow and push against our own wreck

I forget how to kiss
I forget how to guard

I can only shudder beneath you,

mind white
just ignite

as the colours run.


Tonight, at least. /prose

The lights glow dim under canvas walls. Starlight. Memory. We speak soft, talking as we always did, our conversation stretching out into infinities and constellations. This is closer than you and I have been in weeks, but it feels like years, and so I revel in our connection.

Why are you here?

You’re lying next to me as I inhale. Hold. Let it hit. Exhale. The smoke drifts gently up towards the apex of the tent, our feet tucked together into my sleeping bag. Realms open in my mind. I am glowing with those dim lights. Your head angles towards mine. Closer.

Why are you here?

You shift and your forehead is touching mine. The conversation lulls, the axis tilts, the communication shifting into the non-verbal. I sense some second hand ticking quietly away somewhere in your mind. Something in my chest ticks in time with it. We both know what comes next.


Your hand is on my face
your mouth slants against mine

And god it would be so easy to just kiss you – discard all thought like the stub of the now spent joint, and kiss you

and kiss you
and kiss you

But the question remains:

Why are you here?

Your words proffer no new revelation.

And yet…

It’s in the early hours when I sense it. When the sleeping bag for one has been re-purposed, and the campsite lull has died. The starlight fading, dawn beginning to consider chasing to overtake the night.

One arm slung across me, your front against my back, bodies slotted together. Your nose buries into the nape of my neck, and I feel you inhale. Feel you exhale. Feel you let go. Feel you settle.

In your mind there is also question. And somehow, in this stark morning hour, I am your answer.

Tonight, at least; this is enough.

The Climb. /PROSE

I meet you at the bottom of the climb, early in the day. Bump into you with murmured apologies, that unexpected familiar face, the friend of an old lover I never thought I would connect with again. ‘Are you climbing too?’ you ask. I nod dumbly, unable to meet your eyes. ‘Walk with me’, you say. So we begin.

It’s mid morning, the sun has lifted to find her place in the sky, the air is fresh and clean – we’ve been walking together a while. The conversation starts easy, casual, but grows in depth as we start to leave the world below behind. The long road rises steadily, filled with talking, whispering and laughing. It was never intentional, but we’re companions in the climb now. Covering more and more distance without realising the miles and the time slip by. Trading stories, experiences, enthusiasm, sparks.

It’s lunchtime now. We stop to eat, finding a beauty spot. We share scones, and as the sweetness of the jam sticks to my tongue I realise I’m comfortable enough now to look you in the eyes. We revel in being somewhere new.
‘Meditate with me.’
Afterwards we start to climb again, chasing each other and laughing.

It’s the high heat of the afternoon now, and the sun is intense. We’re closer. Our hands bump. Our shoulders rub. Suddenly no touch feels innocent. I chance a look at you sideways and find you watching quietly. Before I can figure out what you’re thinking your mouth is on mine. I didn’t realise how good it would feel. The fever pitches. We break away, laughing, and both turn our faces to the ascent. We stay walking close, and climb together. I lose my footing more times than I should, distracted, giddy.

The sun will set soon. Our laughter has started to die with the wind, and the air is still. There’s a subtle shift as you slow your pace, and I notice not for the first time how heavy your pack is. It weighs you down, and yet you are unwilling to even rest it down for a second. ‘Why so?’ I ask. ‘I just always carry it. I have my reasons. It’s hard.’ you reply. You clutch the straps of the backpack more tightly.

I blink and look at you in the fading light. I feel the truth of your words sink below my skin and tug at the gut instinct, the fear I had ignored. I wonder if you can see the strength it takes me to walk with you this closely. My path has been painful too.
If you just looked behind me and squinted into the fire a little you would see the shapes moving in the flames, the black thorns and the sharp stones. See the ghosts of rough hands that sometimes reach to pull me back, the invisible fingers always around my throat, the sharp cheekbones and the cold eyes. There is a reason we were both climbing in the first place, after all. We walk.

My ascent is nearly complete now. I stand on the ridge, looking across the expanse of the land spread before me, the pinnacle somewhere above my head. The the bleeding red sun is perfectly round, submerging slowly below the horizon. We’re losing light. We’re losing time. My chest feels open, raw and painful, but hopeful. I am alight with opportunity. My blood is liquid fire in my veins, an intensity I can no longer quench alone. Somewhere beneath it all my instinct sucks in a sharp breath.

I glance back, desperately twisting my hands, waiting for you to catch up to me – for you to see the view from where I stand – but you do not come. You climb slow. You’re weighed down heavier and I can see the doubt lining your face. ‘Let me help you unpack’, I plead. ‘Let me take some of the weight.’

You won’t let me.
‘Go’, you say. You won’t look at me.

The dim light has almost gone behind you. The only light left is emanating from my path onwards, glowing, beckoning. I know I have no choice, you’ve given me no choice – but I’m paralysed anyway. I reach.

‘Come with me’, I whisper weakly, loudly enough to reach your ears, but too quietly to reach you.

‘I’m just not ready’, you say.

So I turn.
And I climb.

In the dead of the night, I try not to think of you on the ridge somewhere in the blackness below, alone. Unable to go back, unable to climb further.

I fail.

As the sun rises on a new morning, I feel conviction cement and solidify deep within.

I climb alone.


It’s been a while.



Skimming back through those last few blogs there, it hits me just how different things are from when I was last here. Those words feel like another lifetime. The outlining thing I guess is how much happier I am from those days to now.

I like to think of this blog as a travelling home. Like one of those old beautiful gypsy wagons, you know the type? It started rolling in 2007, (which coincidentally was 10 years ago this year), And it’s been through different amalgamations ever since. The last 3 years have been committed to paper, instead of cyberspace, for the sake of my own (justified) paranoia, but that is long passed now. I’ve entered what feels like a golden era of life. Positive signs and shifts lately have led me back here, so I find myself typing comfortably once again – another new incarnation, another new site. Yet another import of old posts from old location to the new. I imported the file from 2012 onwards, and I daresay I’ll trawl back through at some point out of morbid curiosity…

…It’s quiet here right now. And I quite like that. When you know thousands are reading it can really skew what you say.

Well I’d better plump up the pillows and blow out the cobwebs, I guess. Who knows, I might even throw some /prose out there again sometime soon. Cuppa, anyone?

It’s Time.

I have decided.

I am so tired. Fed up. With lots of things… mainly with the system / mindset of people around me. I don’t want to start using sheep analogies, but working harder for less pay is a theme here, and spending our lives over worked, underpaid, stressed and zombified just about sums it up. Living to work instead of working to live. It’s everywhere, in everyone, and everything, except for of course – the people who are creating this system that works for them, and not the despondent class of people for whom the system was originally created in the first place.

I feel it everywhere. Maybe my eyes are more open now after everything I’ve been through? I feel it at work, mostly. The profession that I joined in order to do some good for people has resulted in sucking all of the joy and meaningfulness out of what I do. And I refuse to continue. I have no interest in being a sales person, selling my time in hourly slots to people that don’t even need or want it truly.

So I’m taking action to change things. I’m going back into my own education, I’m reading and watching and listening and learning. Opening myself up to the world again when I’ve been closed off for so long to try to heal myself. I want to deepen my understanding of everything again, get my curiosity back. Be proactive again.

So I’ve quit my job. Not completely, but my contract in essence doesn’t exist any more. I will still be working 8 casual hours a week at the gym, teaching my classes, and freelance personal training on the side. Free, and casual, as I was before.

When I was casual at my job I was so much happier at what I did because I had freedom, I had control. And gradually bit by bit that has been sucked away from me, and I just can’t do it any more. There are so many things wrong with the corporation I work for, so many things to be concerned with other than the customers well-being, and I am disillusioned. I am ready for change. To take the positive and the negative out of my 3 years there to develop into a better system.

Over archingly, I feel unhappy and disatissfied. I feel like this year I lost so much control over everything, and now I’m correcting it all one thing at a time. Taking it back piece by piece. I’m more secure and happier than I’ve ever been with Charlie. And I’m going to find a way of making life work for me, from now.

I just need to keep my mind focused on the bigger picture. Because it’s coming. And I have purpose again. I have control again.

And, speaking honestly, the worst has already happened. What do I have to fear, now that I have survived what I have?

This future is for me.


“Too many people stop dreaming and die in their early twenties…they just don’t get buried until they are 75” – Brad Sugars

Participation in Happiness.

I’ve attempted a clear out today. I love how travelling alters your perspective.

Admittedly I only managed the virtual half of the clearout before going back into the dissociated bleary state, but I’m going to do the rest when I have a clear head and some time again. I can concentrate for longer and longer now, I’m noticing. My brain is healing.

I’m beginning to realize that I have to reset. Completely. The issue with resetting is, there’s a lot that needs to be smoothed over before you begin, otherwise you head further into the future with all these small regrets eating away. As such, I made peace with a few people. Sent a few texts. Deleted a few messages I really shouldn’t of been hanging on to.  Erased some ‘friends’ from the social network.

The truth is, some people have been negatively impacting my life, and I realized a lot of it actually roots from people I associate with when travelling to work conventions. I realized something whilst I was in America this time round – I realized that as I was sat around listening to people talk about the latest gossip, and who was in the area, how weird they were, and who had money and this and that I realized that I honestly didn’t care about any of it anymore. I’m questioning if I ever did. I still love to travel, of course I do, and I love the genuine friends I have made from my involvement with the convention scene, but the truth is, I am so, so done with so many parts of it….

…so ready to move past it. Moving my blog was the first step.

I’m considering shutting down the site after the sales have finished. It served it’s purpose for the time it was there. It’s costing me to keep it there. For those that don’t know, I’m currently in the process of selling parts of my collection, as I had always planned to, and will be listing those last items that have not sold on ebay in the next few weeks. Some particular pieces I will keep out of fondness, but the truth is, I no longer need or want this stuff around.

If you read this, and there’s particular pieces you’re interested in making an offer on, remove the brackets and email me at this address: beyond.kinnetik(@)gmail.com

Everything I have been through in this past year has made me understand how little things like this matter to me anymore – it doesn’t participate in making me happy anymore. And if I can pass it on to someone who does, then that will make me happier.

The cash can go into my savings…towards my future. The future I’m building gradually in my head, the future that I can see now.

Over and out, I’ll be blogging more lately I can feel it.