Summer

So in love I caught fire one sunny afternoon at the beach, which was embarassing, to say the least. They saved my hands but not my face. With time and diligent rehabilitation I’ll be able to cook a steak, light a smoke and give you dizzyingly satisfying blowjobs. Now no-one will ever love me as much as you do.

Birds

I spend most of my time at home hiding under my blanket on my phone, slowly sentencing my eyes to a grim, backlit decline, dissolving my brain with its comfort food: minor celebrity tweets, easy potato three ways, furious avians with no place to go.  Behind my door the collection of dirty tea cups is slowly becoming sentient; first her doona, then the world, I think I hear them whisper. One licks its chops and farts quietly as sunrise shrieks through my housemate’s window from beyond the ferris wheel.