out of context screenshots of notes I've made on my computer:

5:59am

I wrote this poem and published it in the wom*ns edition of my university's newspaper, Honi Soit around this time last year. It's also where I got the title of this blog from. I found it again recently and thought I would share it here:


5:59am

this morning’s foul, bright breath leaves
a landscape on my bedroom wall;
lipped orange in tungsten glow. spores of sunlight
sew carcinogens, a
microcosmic waltz
across the stretch of my bare skin.

this body
is hardly evocative:
it lies
slackened and soft,
broad as a baleen whale. occupies,
bristles linen like the waves.

the time will come for stranger convulsions;
cereal and suitcases
laid out under my eyes.

until then,
remain
enveloped
in this morning's photon miasma

where
ribs softly undulate
and pores burst open like windows.



by Perri Roach

post-19th birthday pre-19th birthday thoughts

from Robert Grenier's poem Fall Winter Family Home

it is a drunken, fitful sleep which you wake from at 6am. your eyes crack open like prehistoric eggs. you fetch a glass of water from the bathroom & swallow it in round, hard gulps. each mouthful is cold and metallic. yellow street lamps glower at the musk grey sky. it is the day before your birthday. you have a headache. you say this to yourself in second person in your head without realising it. when you do realise, you are embarrassed. The floorboards in the hall squeak as you step over them-- through the window, a sliver of moon.