Post privilege

I went to give you a hug  Instead I ripped you apart  I poked around and looked at what fell out  Then quickly left  No idea how to take back the things I’d said  No idea how to make you whole again.


… for a moment.


Sacred white of purity, you’re one amongst obscurity. Same layers placed one upon another. You’re passed from hand to hand, man to man. Is this possession? How do you define you compared to all the rest? Is it the comparison which matters most…
Is there any solidarity or independence in that dress…

No, I don’t want to be alone. But nor do I want to feel I’m owned. Names signed on dotted line to specify who’s by my side for all of time. Doesn’t speak of partnership, romance or acceptance. It makes demands and expectations, who fights to hold that weight!

I desire passion and romance, late nights, quiet dinners and a private dance. There’s no need to stay forever just give me everything… for a moment.

When the moment ends we’ll have shared with no restrictions. We can part, partly still be friends. If its done right it won’t…

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Lately all my idols are dying. Is it a part of growing up? A sign of the times?
Either way its left me feeling uninspired.
Until tonight, surrounded by people who felt more like family than any other group of strangers I have ever met. Who knew Perth had such an eclectic collection of wordsmiths and magicians. Weaving stories through rhyme and repetition.
They asked if I was ok without speaking directly to me. We cried, laughed, snapped and clapped together and I felt I’d come home. It made me feel ok about wanting to be alone. About wanting to love everyone without ever touching another soul.
Back at my house I waxed lyrical whilst smoke rose from my fingers. The kind that lingers to listen.
The backyard glistened. Towels not yet dry on the line, because rain. Tears not yet dry in my eyes, because pain.

Lately I’ve stopped dreaming about dying. Is it a part of growing up? Or have I changed?
Either way its left me feeling uninspired.
Until tonight, surrounded by poetry, music and wine. I felt nourished for the first time in a long while. Who knew Perth is home to dozens of people I can relate to? Where have they been all my life?
That room above William Street felt more comfortable than my own skin. Which really isn’t saying much, because my skin has never fit me too well. But there, adrift in the letters strung together by equally uncomfortable folk, I felt I’d come home. The sacredness of poetry washing over me, colliding with my vulnerability, daring me to dream (Again). I don’t need to know their names to know that they’re friends but I’d sure like to make their acquaintance… But, REST! Have patience. Good things come to those who wait, or those who make them…

Lately I’ve been afraid of loving. Is it a part of growing up? Or am I just a fool?
Either way its left me feeling insecure.
And so I fight. I resist being desired, try to hide from admirers and fill up all of my time. When can I see you again? In three years I said. Sorry, I’m about to start my degree, no point loving me I’ll just be too busy.
But in reality its a fear of loving too freely, loving too many, and being too greedy. But how could I choose when I fall in love with all of you? There is always someone who would lose.
So I let it be me. I set them all free, forgot what it was like to wake up next to someone, and threw myself into study. Until suddenly. A shiny new guy caught my eye, but at the same time, two beautiful women and an old flame walk by. How do I decide? I can’t. So I lie.

Lately I’ve been trying to improve myself. It is a part of growing up. Or so I tell myself.
Either way its left me feeling confused.
Trying to dissemble what I constructed unconsciously, to find the me I truly want to be. To access a power beyond even what I believe I am capable of. It seems impossible, but I’ve been told that its not…
Some days I believe it, and I stride through life feeling secure and strong.
Some days I don’t, and the idea of pride turns my stomach and I wallow in the “wrong”.
The “wrong” body in the mirror, the “wrong” sexual desires, the “wrong” unsubstantiated fear and the “wrong” choices in life.
I have discovered I am terrified of greatness, of being ‘bigger’ than other people. But with all my idols dying, who do I have to look up to but myself? Who inspires the next generation? All I can try to do is be someone I would look up to. Be someone that makes enough mistakes to one day get it right. And in the mean time, remember, that often being “wrong” is what makes us so great.

Exceptional (grimecore)

Exceptions to the rule, not exceptional, yet foreign enough to set you apart. At the start, as at the end. Just a friend. But don’t fear your heart, it will only misguide you further. Lead you astray, asunder, roiling thunder. Is it ever quiet in here? Not amidst this fear, this frenzy, this cover. Of darkness, beneath the covers a hardness. Beneath the softness, disaster. When it all comes together it just falls apart faster. You find freedom in your laughter, but its a laugh, this humour, no rumour. Everything is precariously hilarious, like Hilary losing to Trump. We’d laugh, then we’d jump. Still laughing just falling as well. Because who’d want to live in that hell? But I ask you, how would you avert disaster? Run faster? Destroy all evidence? Or drive past in the car and blast her? What did she do? Leave behind a broken you. But you weren’t dropped, you jumped. And you were already falling apart, you just claim you split in half because she didn’t stick around to pick up your pieces and heal you. Like she could put together the real you. Like she could ever really feel you. Elusively misusing the truth to further your proof that when you’re excused it’s a slight not a victory. Daily misogyny. Don’t be fooled by exclusivity. Exceptional prudery.

Day 28

(A submission to Berlin ArtParasites 30 day challenge – Day 28: if you had one chance to change your past, what would you do)


I dream sometimes, of things that have already occurred, things that can not be changed. I reimagine what could have happened. What should have… the one I revisit the most is still too painful to talk about and not just because of the event itself, but because of the fallout.

You can think you know someone, you can appeal to that knowledge of them, yet they will still surprise you. I was surprised by a friend who I considered a brother. A friend who told me he loved me and then slipped his bitterness inside me like blunt knife. A friend deaf to my appeals for reprieve from the desperate, passionless attack of lips on skin.

No. Because I love you.
No. Because I love another.
No. Because I don’t want to.
No. Because you’re like a brother.
No. Because this will only cause me pain.
No. Because we both deserve better.
No. Because you’re in a bad place.
No. Because I am too.

No… It was not enough. The long winded, intimate confessions of previous digressions, obsessions and harmful concessions. The consistent pleading, whining and conniving turned my declination to a sigh. The sigh became an unheard cry. Silent tears welling in my eyes as I tried, oh how I tried, to do my duty to mankind. Feeble, fragile woman always ‘willing’ to provide. Still just a girl inside. Unqualified at the time, with my altered mind, to claim the rights of sobriety. Where you don’t touch me without an invite.

He meant no harm but he caused it. He took a long time to find whatever he was searching for in the false warmth of my body. A warmth that still eludes me. That night still lingers in my mind, laying a blanket of darkness over every experience pre or post his interference. I have tried to get rid of it. And sometimes the warm sunlight of anothers smile has penetrated through. Only for a moment or two. Before I throw my arms up to shield my eyes. Because I still feel that I don’t deserve to live in the light. Like something was taken from me, by a man who couldn’t see through his own black night. And if I could go back in time? I would make sure I had the strength, the courage, to fight.

I would take away all the hurt and pain in the world if it were possible. No person would fear for their safety walking down a dark street alone. No person would coerce or pressure another into giving of themselves if they did not desire it. And yet these things occur. We must be strong for those who have had their strength taken from them. Fight for the freedom of one another. Teach courtesy and respect above mathematics and a fear of rejection.

This is what I would change.

Weakness in strength.

It takes so long to build the walls.
Terror layered with fear held together by clotted tears.
We hide behind lies and evasions.
Truths too succulent to share,
Curves in all the wrong places.

Don’t drink the water!
Who decides wrong, where do we learn it from?
How do you undo what has been done
For decades, for centuries…
Pick off the scabs all you get is bleeding.

How do you repair the bone that’s been set wrong?
If we could stitch a bridge across the abyss…
But what then would all these warriors do
Their strength now a weakness
In a world filled with peace.

Romance in 2D

Is it ok that I stare at your picture on the internet for hours? Or at least what seems like hours. Disappearing into pixelated eyes,

your filtered smile

and all of the lies…

one day,

c’est la vie


I don’t mind.

Pipe dreams of misery.

My trust has been betrayed one or two times too many, my self esteem has been crushed under foot.
Sometimes by the soft soles of past lovers sneakers, sometimes by the heel of my own boot.

Despite my lack of apparent humanity I still dream that one day you’ll love me.
A pipe dream it may be, that soon will start fading, but its dreams that keep us all breathing.

Part of me wants you to pick me up in your arms and with a smile call me a fool.
But we seem to get stuck with me on the ground and you not sure what to do.

I’ll take the blame for being so broken, for not knowing how my parts fit.
I’ll be responsible for feeling so lonely that I can’t seem to let anyone in.

You take the blame for being so sure that you know what is best for us both.
You be responsible for being so lonely that neither of us gets what we want.