So far from and yet — like moth to flame, that alien world of drought and indifference. Where day is so bleached by light, the landscape is burnt in closed eyes at night.
An abrasive scrubland of parching wind and ultraviolet radiation; A tinderbox of accelerant and scent of phantom smoke; Where fire sired eucalypt wilt in heat haze; And browning leaf keep falling but not for Autumn calling.
Out there, red-stripe snake and spider eat the Eastern Brown snake. Out there six-foot rat and bird are bipedal, and ten-foot flying shadows prey. Out there meat ant strip body to bone, while blowfly swarm the shade and cicada sound their siren.
But out there — is peace, for people are not there. And so like vampire I hide in lair, until the first night star I stare. Beware, beware, beware this convict out there, in the summer for my sin.