BROADCASTS.com

'Tell me P, what's the difference between praying and begging? You have your God and I have mine.' 

'Mum said "you never get what you want by crying and begging like a little brat, baby P." So I grew up.' 

'Sometimes we get what we want. Sometimes we are just left screaming for it. Either way we've gotta reach with all our might. It's the only truth in all this. It's hope. It's praying on your hands and knees. It's looking up at me and laying your cheek on my tummy. It’s my hand on the back of your neck pushing you into my guts. It's praise and worship baby girl. I sing to you. Listen.' 

'Hush, boy. Listen up. You're just a bunch of fancy phrases and a devious devotion and a brutal end. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you.' 

'Ha! You couldn't lift me off the ground if your entire life depended on it Kitty Kat. What could you know about tossing me? You don't remember a thing. Anyway, I'm not worried. I've finally got a meeting place and a formal agreement. Formalities are silly, aint they? Almost romantic in a fucked up kind of way, almost poetic, saying what you want to say without really saying anything at all. But not quite, poetry isn't found by those who read for formalities sake, it is seen by those who write for the sake of hearing themselves be. Only those with a poetic tongue have a clue how to speak. It's the simplest form of every language. Only the body knows what to say. Poems only come into existing by those who move. Towards childhood: back to our future. The child is taught words. The child is disgusted, shows her tongue. She never needed a word to feel, only the sun, only the sea. Only some time to play. Only love. Love is whatever it wills itself to be. Sentimentality is wordplay. Love isn't a word. It is only everything you see. It is only you and I, little P. Whether you spell it out or not, if spoken in the light of day and trusted in with the whole soul, love will always find its way home. I could show you but I'd rather make you wait.'  

'I won't wait! I'm coming. Hang tight Daisy Jade; I'm on my way. '

She starts crying again. ‘I wish that story was true. Every morning I wake up in hopes of bumping into you again.’ 

‘Don’t be afraid Baby Girl; you’ve got my love in your chest and my heart in the palm of your hands. Sing! Every story I ever write is yours to bring to life.’