Literature
To be human, is to be a supermarket stroller.
A split requires the relinquishing of self to another and for another.
How happy I would be
To be a prisoner
Of another skin.
half of me belongs squatting on plastic stools
I ate oranges and didn’t know they tasted like sunset from Castle Hill.
It exists within another.
Every life spread out, mine parallel to yours parallel to everyone else’s.
You move through the grain of closed eyes, calling through the undergrowth of my body.
We seem to think that our place on the spectrum between divinity and mayhem comes down to how loved we are.
One by one, friends gloved their hands and got to work; my ridged, lumpy canvas morphing and shifting, follicles taking on new forms every fortnight.
people watching. i peer ruthlessly from behind my darkened eyes. observing and absorbing like film.
I wonder whether she’s praying, or meditating, and whether she’s prone to impatience, but the 01:01 train arrives before I work it out. It takes four minutes to depart; four minutes to expose the translucent creature perched in her place.
I am forced to remember it back again. The Sellotape-tear of flesh.
Coming off antidepressants has been comparable to ‘coming off’ Mum, which I have been doing concurrently.
I was caught like a fishhook / in the soft dab of my lower lip.
I am forced to remember it back again. The Sellotape-tear of flesh.
There’s nothing particularly beautiful about the train station.
Saunders waded even deeper. This time he floated on his stomach, observing through the transparent pool floor a flock of people who were most likely unaware that he was their omniscient god.
In her novels and private correspondence, the gap was narrowed. What was human became animal and what was animal became human.
Nothing comes from nothing, And so Prometheus toiled: I must change your life.
For the first time in years, he decides to stop digging.
Today Milan Kundera died; and forty years ago, a different student entered his world of middle-aged fever-dreams.
We are player, viewer, voyeur, flaneur, spectator, and character all at once.
I am terror, peril, and spectre, all at once.
The mountains will bare themselves and our hands will receive.