This record was conceived, composed, and created on stolen, unceded land. I pay my respects to elders past, present, and emerging, of the Wurundjeri, Bunurong, Turrbal, Kaurna, Barunggam and Bundjalung peoples, on whose land this work was done. I pay my respects to the Wurundjeri and Bunurong peoples who have been the continual custodians and protectors of the land which I cautiously call my home, in spite of the injustices inflicted upon them and on their communities. I pay my respects to all First Nations peoples on this continent and on others, and I acknowledge that I partake in a mere continuation of creative practice which has dwelled in these lands for thousands and thousands of years before it was stolen and colonised. It always was and always will be Aboriginal land. I pay my respects to my own ancestors, in blood, and in spirit. Known and unknowable, the ones who went before, whose bodies fertilise the soil in which my roots now grow. I pay my respects to an uprising generation advocating for the wellbeing and the healing of an inheritance which has been set on fire. I pay my respects to the creator in and of it all, in the flood, and flame, sea, and sky, in body and breath.

seven years old, every saturday, barbie gymnastics in the computer room of your house, willing you to look at me as i sat in your bunkbed and listened to your favourite song, you climbed out your window. seventeen years later and i think about you almost once a week cause you’re always on my feed. you’re graduating and you’re modelling and you’re thirst trapping on tik tok i wonder if you remember, do you remember me? all these years i’ve kept, no word from you, i’m starting to doubt you ever knew me, but it’s not your fault that all i ever learned from you was how to forget the ones who loved me. fifteen years old and your tongue is in my mouth and i guess this is how it’s supposed to be. you pull away and you tell me to shave so my body feels better for you and i do. all these years i’ve kept, no word from you, i’m starting to doubt you ever loved me, but it’s not your fault that all i ever learned from you was how to control the ones who loved me.

somehow the light in your room smells sweeter than mine. and i wish that whenever i was here i didn’t wonder if i wasted my time. but even if i did i don’t think i’d mind, cause i’ve breathed in the smoky clouds, traced their golden outlines. and my eyes are closed, but i don’t suppose that you could make time stop for me? cause i don’t know if i can let this go. cause golden hour only comes once a day, and it kinda depends on the weather how long it’ll stay, hm, but if i breathe it in and hold my breath maybe i can keep it in my lungs for a minute longer yet. but maybe it’ll be even better tomorrow evening - does it even really matter? i guess i’ll never know without waiting through tonight. when the sun sets and the window’s pouring liquid gold and we forget all the silver steel that’s turning it cold, what if there’s no tomorrow at all? you fell asleep without me and left me behind and you took everything i ever liked about me that i could find. i let you get under my skin, i thought i could hide if i needed to.

focusing all of my attention on you, shivering through my inhibitions, listening to my sick volitions (come closer) voices slowing down (time stops), come around, crawling now, my skin, my sin, give in, give in every breath that i’m taking is shallower, squeezing me tighter and drowning me out with my own white noise. ugly reflections are whispering nothings that aren’t as sweet as i’d like them to be but i can’t hear underwater, drowning in the sea, thrashing far away, and i can’t breathe at the surface as another wave crashes down again watching our bodies shuffle and squirm from above in lust and i’m regretful and i’m resentful in my devoid disgust blood’s running cold (eyes shut) burning bold, devil’s hold on my guilt and shame, my guilt and shame every star in the sky is screaming in fuzzy instructions to stop my destruction of every one i love and i’m in the dark and i’m all alone and my lungs are empty now but i can’t hear in the silence, drowning out my eyes, shaking in the dark and i can’t see in the moment swallowing me whole frozen in the fall cause i can’t hear my reflection begging me to wait, willing you to stay out of my greed, expectation, seconds moving on, breathing out alone

ears underwater, eyes to the sky, i can’t hear a thing, just dwell in the tide. under the surface there’s so many lights they drown out the sting of salt in my eyes i forgot when i was swimming i could stop the sprint when i get tired when was the last time you sat under this many stars? the waters i wrestle with, carry me when i surrender my fear of surprise and float beneath the overflow here’s to the elders, remember their fires burn in the seabed, ceremonial pyres, Generous Ocean, Creator of Time, you're wiser than i am, so erode and refine i forgot when i was swimming i could stop the sprint when i get tired. to be here from the beginning, all the years i missed devoured by my own impatient desire when’s the next time you’ll sit under this many stars? the waters I wrestle with, carry me when i surrender my fear of surprise and float beneath the overflow

holding my breath so i can slow down the sun, mould every precious second passing under your thumb i could listen to you talk all day, i get lost in every word- in the syllables of my own name; blessed petals falling from the air, i know: the time it takes is always running out on us and it’s cold enough for you to say that it’s time for us to make our way home but can you stay even when the sun’s gone down, can you stay? can you stay when there’s nothing left to talk about? can you stay a little longer? your silhouette attaining every fantasy of mine with your unlit cigarette intangibly held to light the wick of the candle i will not permit i could listen to you talk all day, i get lost in every word- in the syllables of my own name; blessed petals falling from the air, i know: that all it takes for me to walk out on us is a light to fall on your array cause a shadow lit is in decay but can you stay even when the sun comes out, can you stay? can you stay when there’s nothing left to talk about? can you stay a little longer?

i only ever date older than me cause in primary school they said i was mature so when i overestimate how committed i’ll be, it’s cause i don’t know what it means to be sure but loving is giving so i give more and more and i whore my whole self out for a crush. it always felt forbidden but that’s what draws and draws, and i pour my whole self out for a touch they said that i was pretty but pretty doesn’t mean hot bleach my hair, dye my skin, colonise the bones i’m in everybody only ever wants cracked china, nowadays a salvos only place to find em cause porcelain untouched, too beautiful to be loved, not safe for work when heavy hands are holding onto delicacy tongues so i rinse and repeat til i forget how to eat still obsessing over not getting older and guessing how a cold shoulder could mean anything that it’s not. i’m waiting waiting for them to say that they like me, they’re fading fading like they’re already behind me love isn’t fulfilling when it falls and falls so I haul my whole self out of a crush cause i was never willing to be bored, i’m bored so my infatuation's all out of touch they said that i was pretty but pretty doesn’t mean hot, my split ends are getting frizzy, but my roots are never gonna stop bleached my hair, dyed my skin, colonised the bones i'm in everybody only ever wants cracked china, nowadays a salvos only place to find em cause porcelain untouched, too beautiful to be loved, not safe for work when heavy hands are holding onto delicacy tongues learned what I needed to be, watching white girls on TV, overhearing conversations underneath a supermarket aisle, labels intercept encouragement with poison hidden in their bile that’s a life that’s not mine, she is not my design, if it’s yours, that’s fine, but i am defined by my own alignments, a stereotype’s comparative no power of the imperative, your aspirational narrative everybody only ever wants cracked china cause porcelain untouched, too beautiful to be loved, not safe for work when heavy hands are holding onto delicacy tongues

he is probably working harder than i am now and he holds heavier burdens and has more to stress about when did you last eat? how long did you sleep? is it lonely when your name is in the news? any time you’re free? or anyone you’re allowed to see? aren’t you tired of wondering if you’ve been used? so why do i still want to be you?

watch the moon slowly start to rise, hold the thought, i’m terrified you’ll forget my image in your eyes as we bleed, the sundown dripping golden ice do you know me? do you know me? do you know me? do you know me? dusty room i don’t recognise but i sit because you said it’s mine. i’m confused because you have my eyes. when you speak you tell me i was wise so i laugh hahaha i’m not sure i know why do you know me? do you know me? do you know me? do you know me? do you know me? (Why's a memory so fragile?) do you know me?? (Why's a memory so fragile?) do you know me??? (Why's a memory so fragile?) DO YOU KNOW ME????(Why's a memory so fragile?) did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know you? did i know yo

sipping earl grey in a coffee shop and i imagine myself sitting all alone in an empty tub and my phone is off blue light flashes as i romanticise ceramic on my back bones, i fantasise, they tantalise, they think they’re wise. little squares bounce back and forth before my eyes, little wings flutter like butterflies, little words, little buttons to keep me occupied personalised and hand delivered, my daily newsletter full of terror so we’re terrified. big fonts compete for my attention. big brands scramble to grab a mention. an influencer’s influence is only for a second but fame in the immediate is always gonna beckon. "Follow me", she says, "I promise you I can help, I can fix your body or your relationship with yourself. Click here to build your wealth but while you’re still depressed, don’t forget to ring that bell!" your history’s a secret i promise i won’t tell unless you used a slur before you learned how to spell with your private school friends in your private school uniform. that’s why you’re excommunicated from your platform. that’s why you gotta be educated and diligent cause to be complicated is to be complicit but refusing to participate is to miss it, and if i’m honest i admit that i’m addicted and that’s why I’m sipping earl grey in a coffee shop and i imagine myself sitting all alone in an empty tub and my phone is off i underestimate an hour that becomes a day and now i’m looking at a future in the gutter, but i investigate the ethics every time i pay to verify the company deserves a dollar cause i’ve been burned before, haven’t we all? whenever we ordered a pair of jeans from that online store that turned out to profit off of child labour.. what does it cost to know what your clothes are made of? but i accept a burden that i shoulder because i kept a family inheritance i want to protect, a process of keeping my class in check, but what would change if mr musk operated the same way and bezos paid his employees the right pay and zuckerberg gave minorities their say? maybe it’s not so grey but i sit on a plane and i pray to stay grounded but i sit dumbfounded at the big cloud mountains- there are icebergs in the sky and the billionaires sigh as their private planes pass by and clouds unload themselves on the waters below and the rivers become lakes as they overflow and the houses are destroyed as the floodplains grow but it’s beautiful to watch from the ozone and i want to do something with the money i’ve got but the companies are looking for somebody i’m not and the days are getting warmer and the planet’s hot but we’re all comfortable frogs in the boiling pot so i’m still sitting still because i almost forgot about how tired every choice makes me, it’s a lot and the fire feels fake when it’s tying a knot preparing a noose before we all get shot. we’re all paralysed. sipping earl grey in a coffee shop and i imagine myself sitting all alone in an empty tub and my phone is off huh. no wonder we’re all so stressed, our choices committed under future duress, a generational inherited aversion to rest- i confess i write what i cannot attest. i'm always a guest, and never belong, we try our best but keep getting it wrong. learn to resist but still singing their songs in between two oceans but the current’s strong embedded in the west but my roots wonder, do i belong there? where my blood and my skin reside, i’ve never gone there, stuck allocate a place to breathe but never allow enough time and space to grieve. i sit and i bow and listen and receive but sometimes the work just deepens the fatigue. going to church and learning to weave all these threads into theology that i can believe (?) How do you take your tea? if you’ve only got bags, don’t give me green i’ll drink it black if you’ve got full cream Don’t you think your demands are a little extreme? i guess i’ll take it normally then and keep that in mind for next time when i’m ordering then - cause no offence to your palette the next time i vote with your ballot sipping earl grey in a coffee shop and i imagine myself sitting all alone in an empty tub and my phone is off

the wind is full of ghosts this morning. i can feel them on my shoulder, whispering slowly. yearning for, or yearning to be, impossible, hurt beyond belief, the blood of all my ancestors waiting to see if i’ll become all they hoped i’d be, i hope i’ll be a vessel for their spirits kept alive in me they’ve given me a body so they could keep score, can a body house a person it wasn’t built for? perhaps one day i’ll look down, and see simply the fact of me, another substance entirely, wholly its own kind, powerfully a memory or legacy, a graveyard full of spirits i’m continuing my heresy reminding me i’m an echo of lost spirits kept alive in me my hair is full of ghosts, keeping me company. shaving them away, they stick to my skin, the incense scent is thick with them now, bottled blood grows new roots somehow, face in the grass, three times i bow and pray to them i carry all they’ve left for me, relentlessly a vessel for their spirits kept alive in me