welcome

out of a country town we created it, just 18 yr old long hairs with too many jeans and too many dreams, in our image we created it, jumbled mess of awkward gestures and shared woes and it got swollen and stretched past the town borders, past the churchyard whose bench we burned and whose door we puked on drunk some nights with port wine and fast cars, past the grass we sat on and smoked cigarettes like they were our last, past the house we stole and held parties in before they knocked it down and built three houses in its place, past the hills we'd camp in all night and watch meteor showers from sleeping bags with slugs on my hat in the dewy night, past so many meaningless loves and secretive seductions, past concerts and bedroom with yellow walls, past first floor flats and basement flats, past bakeries and coffee pots for one and picnics, past long walks and the flowers picked on them and a girl kissed on a log after she missed school to spend the day with me and I loved her at the time I think, past nearby towns and the old fort by the sea and the countless sad days we spent there, past crashing waves on winters nights with a girl wrapped round you, past inflatable dinghys and LSD amidst husks of watermelon, past spraypaint and hamburgers on nights that never ended, past busking beat poetry and making enough for chewing gum, past sleeping on the beach or in cars, past stupid ideas and brilliant ideas, past road trips west racing the sun all the way and making it in record time, past video cameras we used to record friends buried in grass or removal lorries in transit, past endless talks, past all the trousers I remember taking off, past the book I wanted to write and finally did, past dancing in the street in the middle of the night until the police told us to stop, past broken feet and broken hearts, past sisters I fell in love with and maniacs I fell in love with and girls I shouldn't have fallen in love with, past the coast and the countryside, past all these memories, it stretched with us when even the fields weren't big enough anymore, and north to the city where just maybe it could manifest itself again, or at least we could live, and through lethargy and week long drunks and sadness and hardship and just enough joy it stayed together and the theoretical peach got to epic proportions and its tangible sibling got spewed onto the page crudely with stolen photocopying - and busy complications and depressive fantasies and waking dreams haunted by zombies and the soil cucumber - and now we are here and older and on it goes:

one huge peachy