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summer sadness in st kilda east

<p>when i wake up, dani and melissa scramble into my bed. half shaved legs sprawl over my ikea doona cover. melissa and i scream with delight as dani tells us why she was out until 9am. ‘stop screaming!’ she begs.</p>


i am sick, my body and mind exist on different planes. people come and go through the crack shack like family. jim sleeps on the couch and bums endone. dani is out until 8am. the crack on my wall continues to grow and the bathroom door is still broken. i am sleeping mostly, trying not to spend money.



everything lined up tonight before shattering. sitting in the dying herb garden, i felt i were a hollow carcass, scraped raw of what i used to be. my brain, my eyes, my throat, chest ached as i implored the sky for answers. opened my empty shell and peaked – inside was a little girl, hidden under layers of change. i saw what i am supposed to do. the answer was somewhere between laughter and tears, leaves and dirt.



head. ache.

grey.   dazed.

heart ache?

scattered. unsure if what I’m doing is –

ok? pass out.



we all drew that night,

for hours upon hours


i felt electric, craved a voice

to cradle me

to a state near sleep

as the room spun and twisted

and my mind was cruel


the night that never ended

the sun rising hotly

revealing paintings done

in a state near mania.



wake up, no food, drink milk, out the door – dissociate on tram. did i tap on? can’t afford another fine. don’t know where i am though i take this tram every day. late to class, late to class. wake up more. clean, crisp. focused. hungry, fading. tram again. 16 via st kilda. fluorocents. green seats. buzzing, beeping. home, pick up, talk shit, smoke, eat a pizza, pass out.



my body feels

as if it were hit

by a truck


yet my mind

won’t slow




when i wake up, dani and melissa scramble into my bed. half shaved legs sprawl over my ikea doona cover. melissa and i scream with delight as dani tells us why she was out until 9am. ‘stop screaming!’ she begs.

it’s a ten minute walk to coles. we are lazy and catch the tram. we don’t tap on to go three stops and i’m looking over my shoulder the whole time. melissa has worn my shoes and i’m worried about stepping on glass. a layer of grime seems to cling to the footpath down this end of the street. above, the metallic wires belonging to the 16 via st kilda east zap and make me laugh. imagine growing up with those constantly overhead.

at home, the house swallows us in cool shade. i’m sweating, plastic grocery bags sticking to my skin. milly appears at our gate with pink hair and a death-metal shirt. we all drink and smoke and talk about how he’s trash! we play angry anthems from 2008, when i was 13 and melissa was 9.

melissa re-pots my dying plants: ‘you need to water them!’ she screams, louder and more vibrant than the birds outside my window. we lose the ‘good lighter’. i meekly ask upstairs for one and don’t return it for three days and counting. sheets and towels crowd the courtyard and fail to dry in the damp night air.



summer is ending soon, rain will flood our courtyard, smoking might retire (maybe). right now melissa’s heart is pulling her along, dani’s heart is in melbourne but her passport is dutch. dishes crowd our sink, which is clogged. we can’t go more than two days without the house descending into a messy clutter-house. i don’t mind too much. there are always bills to pay – that i mind, a bit. but there’s also always laughing, eating, sleeping, hugging, crying, drinking, singing.

Farrago's magazine cover - Edition Three 2021


Our final editions for the year are jam packed full of news, culture, photography, poetry, art, fiction and more...

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