A petite mess of style and substance. A Melbourne writer. A controversial bitch daring you to see our world differently.

Blur

can you be mad
on the idea
of madness
alone
hooked
on something
peculiar
although
to be so
self-obsessed
seems strange?
it came in
phases
phrases
i often misspelled
pronounced
characters names
as chalky
powdered lines
in a paragraph
of a plot
i’d lost
i wrote
charmed
as a ciggie
in a silver case
i told myself,
“have a smoke
darlin’
pour yourself a jar
of grape
and watch the world
unfold itself”
but
soon enough
lint landed
on the lamp
with no globe
a light
on the painted
bedside table
in my room
offering me none
people
were coming
to party
too
and i hadn’t
washed
my socks;
odd pairs
loitered my toes
for so long
i hadn’t noticed
the different
shades of pink
plus
the clothes horse
in the lounge
was pretty fucked
made laundry
a laugh
but
i wasn’t
in the mood
to find hilarity
in nothing
my housemates
reassured me
mismatched
cotton
socks
looked cute
i’d painted
that table
you know
where the lightless
lamp lived;
hand touched
mint green
pale streaks
from a five dollar
brush
that struck
a silhouette
only real
in my mind
until it became
a thing
you could see
in real life
strange
industrial beauty
i called it
used to take
care of things
like that
turned them pretty
just because
i could
life looked better
to me
that way
old
becomes older
still
they said
i could be
anything
i wanted
mum and dad
so
when i grew up
i sat in a
corner
and
watched a wall;
thought thoughts
one thinks
when staring
at the fixture
between the floor
and the ceiling
thought thoughts
like
thoughts think
too
perhaps
and
the corner store
i once saw
called
Cosy Corner
was likely
cramped
considering it
wasn’t even on a corner
and the owners
had already
lied
too loudly
and
why is
white
the colour
of so many
walls
surely
they’d get bored
or
at the very least
stir-crazy
even though
walls are just things
and things
don’t feel things
like we do
plus
the paint
on them
had been mixed
long ago
now
it was
fixed
set
dry
made me wonder
what the painters
thought
of the colour
white
dentists
too;
they must see
white
a lot
considering
teeth are
meant to be
that light
even though
we know
they’re mostly
yellow
cavities
filled
imagine pulling
apart
the parts
of someone’s
smile
anyway
i didn’t
really sit
in a corner
like i said
or didn’t say
but wrote down
that i did;
i hadn’t
watched a wall
that was likely white
instead
i socialised
became a part
of this thing
called life
learnt things
felt things
that weren’t things
at all
i became a circle
coloured in
it felt good
heard that
the human head
weighs ten pounds
from
a kid
on a film
who said it did
so i believed it
even though
i was
just a kid
at the time
i heard it
thinking about it
now I’ve grown up
i know
that i don’t know
the weight of a pound
or much about the
human head
really
other than
my thoughts in it
still
the kid
was cute
who’d said it
blonde
little
with those circle
old-fashioned
glasses
he was
simply
rehearsing
a line
from a script
someone else
told him to read
strange
to remember
things like that
my guess is
thoughts make
heads heavier
and lighter
at the same time
ten
five
or fifteen
the weight
of a yo-yo
without
it’s string
like you
i’m
a yo-yo
too
a baked biscuit
with a fork
imprint
on its lid
small
sweet
custard powdered
treats
we are
not toys
delicate
chalky
with
white
lines
of icing
in our middle
homemade
Kinder Surprises
we are
delighted
at the prospect
of protecting
something
inside us
the people
who came
to party
sure
loved them
though
i suspect
they liked
the wine
more
didn’t comment
on my socks
either
said
i still looked
cute
though
they were
intrigued
by the shit
Blu-Tacked
to my wall
and
didn’t seem
bothered
by the light
i owned
that didn’t work
i felt whole.

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