I sit at my desk, naked.
No, I sit on my bed, naked, but clothed.
Veins busy treating a poison.
Shrouded by the shadow of a daemon.
Cast with a light of my own making.
Adding shadows to the wall of the Cave.
Our cave.
His Cave.
I am naked, but clothed.
Maybe Plato was right.
My head locked, a fire burning.
Prisoner, prisoner
Prison
Pri
Pry?
Pried.
Opened. Split. Torn.
My shadow wears no clothes.
She dances to a controlled rhythm.
Mused by Him.
All of Him and all of the Hims.
The base lines my waist line, the beat my shudder, the melody His groan.
My head locked.
The Cave cold.
I am naked, but clothed.
My bed is warm.
My daemon lays next to me.
My daemon lays on top of me.
Clothed in a custom-made dress
straight-jacket.
My shadow dancing whilst I march.
A heart in atrophy
I am naked, but clothed.
A ladder used as kindling.
For the flames.
An arsonist’s lullaby.
No one can climb of the Cave.
Self-destruction. A skeleton sedated.
He made me naked.
Whilst I clothed him.
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.