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

Selves; Set

background texture

pucker your lips on the lies you speak, love/swallow your eyes like tears thick/we’re all fucked up and a little lonely/too many beautiful faces on the street, we keep our stare stuck on the concrete/names etched there as if a minute’s fame might last forever/shame your name’s so common/no one knows it’s you/what fools we are those who don’t see each other/use a stick to leave our message in something wet like sand
she saw her reflection in the shop window, smiled/he laughed at his phone at the joke he sent/waited on a reply for days/paced the pavement in his mind, staring at the clock while the same thoughts ticked on, ticked him off/he jerked off, thinking the text was lost in the mail/read it after; saw it was sent/read it was read/what he’d bet his dick on for three dots destined for a response
we see the irony
someone said, “hey, how are you today?”/the stranger mistook her politeness as flirtatious
an arse grabbed is great/still;
depends on the context/
she carried three bottles in a cardboard box home with her
//there’s no such thing as a kitchen bench empty of wine//
he said he could bring it back for her; help /her arms looked heavy, too thin and muscly/but she’d been taught about the dangers/strangers on the street and all/men in black with cologne drenched in a tomorrow sweeter somehow
she’d wake to feel half full for him
boy looked defeated; she continued on alone/box tucked up; into herself/back into herself; somewhere safer/headed to her house; vacant
no one was as lonely as her; no one drowned in wine like she did
//because no one’s as fucked up as we are//
until you meet their eyes/connection there/same same, but the direction to escapism’s different/down your gaze now, wall your focus/nothing to see but humans/we’re all reflections of ourselves, unsmiling
she squints at the window; studying herself/shopping for an impression she already knows/shame she can’t see that we’re all just as unbalanced/straddling sharp objects and b.y.o woes/just as fucked up/just as frightened of seeing ourselves/seeing ourselves in strangers
same same, but different enough we just might like them
//us; but better//
i poured a glass of red in the remaining plastic cup left/home alone again/grinned at the contents of the cupboard leased: oats, a pill crusher and two sheets of antidepressants/two inches in from the litres left/too many bottles empty; but not enough medicine/too foggy/never enough medicine for me
still,
i watched her/i watched as she watched her/reality TV/watched him scroll through Tinder/faces ill-favoured/scrutinising the colour of their eyes; their teeth like a smile coloured in/their perception unnoticed in a picture filtered
no thanks//but yes, please
swipe left
and they watched/i watched the them in they/until we were all just watching/watching ourselves/our vision; blurred
we crave something we won’t admit
:
human/lonely/assured/unsure/not wanting to die alone//drunk, or similar//deceiving ourselves with lips sealed open
it’s better not to see/right
swipe right
smirk and watch the world unfold itself
set your eyes on the cigarette stained street/everyone knows eyes not met before are all the same

smile to yourself.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS

%d bloggers like this: