Lauren Hunter20 February 2017
I sit reading for so long that my legs tingle
with guilt, and the arms of the chair
become my arms. For a moment
I feel the stiffness in your back.
I’m not a light sleeper, but something woke me in the middle of the night. It wasn’t something particular—like a sound or smell—but rather, a presence.
Listening to X only after he’s dead
Capitalising on vintage Woolworths’ plastic bags
Remixing washed out lo-fi vinyls from Savers
if a bear shits in the woods and no-one is around to hear it, then does a bear shit in the woods?
whatever the hell
“Okay, it’s fine. It’s Macca’s, they won’t question my order…uh, hi. Can I get three-hundred and sixty nuggets?”
On my scribbled to-do list is the task: “reacquaint myself with magic.” Then an arrow coils past “catch up on W9 lecture” and “finish Part C stats” and connects to “in the world, myself, etc.”
The rocking chair swayed back and forth like water against the hull of a ship. Through the window, she could see that the night was still. In the valley below, the soft glow of the town stretched all the way to the shore.
To be jettisoned into space,
disintegrating amongst the silence,
bleached & violated by cosmic tidings,
finally twinkling as stardust within the void.
When you were five and I a head taller
we snapped the arms of plastic dolls
in the hopes of making them bend.
Though he wears a rich coat burning brighter than the sand of any desert, the twinkle in the lion’s amber eyes has long since faded.
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
cher if u agree
No one else made a fuss about Nelly Furtado’s latest album when it was released three months ago, but I felt I owed it to her.
I run home, which hurts my bladder.
Current animation student at the Victorian College of the Arts. I make weird art out of clay sometimes.
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