I can’t understand           the words in this song

written in different languages    and    emotions

but my shoulders are  shaking           regardless

and my eyes feel like they could spill over  soon

but it’s okay     because I think I like this melody

and      I think             I could listen to it all night

teamed with the sound of   my steady whimpers

it is quite calming.      I could fall    asleep to this

I could      fall     asleep           alone           to this


I feel like I’m suffocating.

  I can’t breathe with your hands in my chest

and your fingers tightening the vines around my lungs.


                 and now there’s a hole in my chest

                                  and I don’t know how to sew it up.

                                                   so I’ll pinch the skin with my fingers and try

                                                                                 not to spill on to your shoes.


I tried to warn you that I was full of thorns

and that your fingers would bleed 

but how can I put bandages on your wounds

if I’m already bleeding out?


           somehow I know that I’ll save you

                                              instead of myself.

because I would rather watch myself suffer over you.

and living with an infected you-shaped hole in my chest

probably won’t kill me as fast as I’d like.


My teeth hurt,

I think they might fall out.

And my gums feel raw –

red, raw and rotten.


And I’m afraid I’ll spit out my teeth on the floor

in a puddle of red blood and tears.

So I’ll hold them in by holding my mouth shut.

And you won’t hear me cry about it anymore.


Even now, as I chew my lips,

I feel them unearthing.

I’ll bite down on them

while I still can.


But I guess when my teeth are gone

I can’t bite down on your arms when you touch me

because your touch is poison

and I guess it was your poison that did this to me.


My drink bottle leaked in my bag today

                  I got angry.    Again.


      and I almost missed my train

                                          – twice


My mother yelled at me for the same reason she did last week


               and I got no sleep

                                as per usual.


   There was this man on the train

                         he looked and me and 


                                        I don’t know what to make of that.


And I guess I wrote another poem

                                       maybe another three

    but I can never get them quite right.  

                             And I’m afraid I never will.


                                                           Tonight I will think of that man on the train

                                          what was he frowning at?

someday soon

It’s difficult to see myself as big when I stand next to the city,

my round fingers held up against a skyscraper.

And when I weave through the busy streets

I can see how temporary I am – how insignificant and small.

But when I stand in front of the mirror in my entirety,

my lumpy stomach, thighs and round face,

I can’t help but feel bigger than the ocean

and larger than the tallest building in Melbourne.

All I can hope is that one day (someday soon)

someone will wrap me inside their arms like a child

and I’ll shrink into who I want to be.

Then, and only then, will I be able to look in the mirror

and see that my body is the smallest part of me;

the rest of me is larger than the entire city.

the lesser

Well it doesn’t matter that I have bruises on my skin

because she has a tear on her face.

And it doesn’t matter how long the bruises have lasted

because she’s obviously more distressed

than my arm, leg and chest.

And so what if I haven’t slept in a few nights,

she’s been sleeping most soundly.

Also, who said last year can’t make me mad?

We’re all still running around her last few,

so why do I have to forget the last 12 months?

why do I have to get over everything

if she can live so deeply in the past?

Why do I have to wake up tomorrow completely fine

but you’ll understand if she’s still crying?

Why do I have to always be in a good mood,

but her bitchiness gets passed off as “she’s unhappy”?

And how come when I’m sad it’s funny

and when I say “I never want to wake up again”

it’s still just as funny?

but if she said “I want to die” you’d never leave her side.

Why am I the second option,

The last choice,

The lesser?