a moment to swim inside.

4 November 2020

(a coming-of-age playlist.)

words taken from blackout poetry made from old (angsty) phone notes & journal entries.

22.08.17 / sit next to me by foster the people.

out the window,
the suburban lights are
bright and cold,
a picture in time.

you can breathe in broken light.

shadows of leaves pass
over the walls, on the
walls of this dimension.

listen as i wipe the condensation,
the breath.

17.09.17 / ashley ave by sondorblue.

a sharp feeling surrounds me,
holds me in its eyes.
i’m the suburban dead.

drinking wine on the couch,
we talk ourselves into
a fresh sunday morning,
golden through the kitchen window.

i see and feel at once, calm.

04.01.18 / golden slumbers by the beatles.

today i received a 14-page letter.

i’ve been thinking about
homesickness and how to
wash over little slumbers of
loss, of laughing, of the
homes that aren’t places.

i wrote a poem at 3am, but
it’s neither here nor there.
i’m in limbo by day and
by night, i flow wherever.

25.01.18 / cameos by swimming tapes.

unrolling you with my
new eyes, i find years and
gardens between us.

in this space again, i dance,
bathing in the swell.

i think you danced the same dance.
you always have.

29.01.18 / cigarette buzz by jane’s party.

i’m comfortable at a bar. comfortable
in the loud and crowded seats,
near the gelato sunset,
the voices of buskers.

we throw, we catch a few weeks,
the moment behind me already.

walking to the train station on a hot
night, we all meet a couple more times,
times we treasure.

31.01.18 / glowing by slaughter beach, dog.

in the small hours,
i’m floating.

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