Blow Me, Wellington.

Day Uno, (Uno: local Cambodian phrase meaning ‘one’). (I am well prepared for this trip).

A haiku:

Blow me Wellington.
I’m off to ‘East Asia, you
Windy old biz-nitch.

Day 7, 9am

Whoever is out there,

I am a dying man.
Cambodia is a beautiful place,  but I am not a capable man and this is no fairy tale. I have travelled into the land comprised solely of my weaknesses and have found my doom. Do all heroes’ tales begin ‘to be, or not to be?’
Oh, If I were likened to Achilles, my heel would be the only safe part, and the rest of my body would be the heat, the bugs, the heat again, the spice and everything else a sane man should be able to deal with.

This is the end of me,

And these are my final words.

Even the sun seeks shade
Always bright
Nowhere to hide
All depend upon him.

Look to the beacon
To stay out of the light:
I explode a thousand times.
I’m Bottled up pressure.
I die,
But yay! The mosquitos feed.
I rapidly fade
Even the sun seeks the shade.

SPF 9000.
Now I glow bright.
A ghost, or the second sun?

Do I get to burn people? Lets try.

Nope. White ghost black eye.

A permanent eclipse, please.
I won’t admit it,
but even the sun seeks shade.

Another dry day waiting for rain
Even the sun seeks shade.

Day 7, 9:01 am

A slight breeze? I knew you cared.

hello Wellington.
How are you?

Oh, me?

It’s a good thing I like hot food.
The locals yell to make sure I can hear, so considerate,
And the mosquitos are friendly
Always hugging my face.

And you? – oh, the haiku? You saw that?

It was nothing.
It was just s typo.

Here is what I meant:

A haiku:

Blow me Wellington
And I’ll get on my knees and
happily blow back.