I Called Him Scraps.
Eat My Scraps, Please
I can’t stop thinking about thinking!
Art is an expression of self…
So here I am…
Laid out like a buffet
and slowly unwrapped
Let me clack against your teeth
Why does the brain look like that?
I love my wind chimes!!
Ego is a lizard looking in the mirror
The shadows are an opportunity to heal
There is here.
“I’m horny for folk music.”
Someone just tried to interview me again, but I’m late for work
Yup. Livin’,
Liv in the kitchen,
dancing to afro beats while she scrapes the skin of a mango with her teeth
Dear Fear…
…Why do you do that
Therapising my mother (sometime in July 2025)
We are watching Wimbledon.
I am writing myself
Google Doc notes
to read in the future:
Go to a doctor about your head
CBD oil to relax *
Get a new laptop and phone
Volunteer for accommodation somewhere in Brighton
Write your book. Make that your thing
Make TikToks of your life
Start doing gymnastics/parkour
Start feeling healthy and proud of your body
I look up from my notepad
She’s scraping lasagna.
The dog sits on the floor
Looking with eyes like buttons
Who are you
Where are you
What are you thinking? Are you a moron?’
Break now and then take your own. Then you’ve got it.
^As if this was said about a tennis match.
Thirty – fifteen
“You look like a weird skeleton thing from a fight night school”
Thanks.
Now we’re talking about my childhood memories — that moment when I fell to my knees at the sports day,
I was so hard on myself —
She’s speaking:
‘Everything I do is wrong, he tells me. which is not fair
I’ve tried really hard
I always try and think –
What he would like
I tap on my computer.
Trying to make a poem though I don’t know what a poem is
“Let’s go do yoga!” she says.
“We’ll both lay on the floor
And we’ll be covered in grass
And we’ll come inside and we’ll laugh and laugh.”
20:22: olivia. Share this.
21:00: I make notes on my thoughts about time
I felt like we’d been doing yoga for hours
I was so absorbed.
It’s been half an hour
In the morning
We can do anything!
15/10/25
What an insightful man
Tiny drug dealer with a backpack
Borges with a Tim Burton grin.
Your 10 totally random school-style spelling words
Here they are:
- Thicket
- Marvel
- Plunge
- Lantern
- Rustle
- Fragment
- Patient
- Dreadful
- Nourish
- Tremble
Would you believe that no drugs were consumed before the writing of this masterpiece? :
- Tonight, the moon looked like a large googly eye. It spied me. Spied me hunched over in a thicket, spewing my guts out.
- It’s a marvel I had any guts left at this point, to be honest.
- Suddenly – the result of a rather glorious heave – I found myself taking an unrequested plunge down a nearby slope where the loose dirt had begun to avalanche away.
- I rolyied and polyied my way to a crumpled heap at the bottom. I lay still. My heart ticked softly like a bomb amongst my ribs. I could do nothing but wheeze weakly and admire the single star blearing bravely above me, like a space worm’s lantern.
- After some time, a rustle began in the thicket above – drawing my awareness away from the light of the stars and the sickness in my heart.
- I heard a shout and then watched in quiet wonderment as a fragment of paper sashayed its way down and onto my chest.
- I was patient as I waited for its procurer to descend their way to the bottom of the slope.
- This journey took a vast amount of time and was accompanied by a dreadful string of curses, exclamations, and complaints.
- But what happened next did nourish my black and sickened soul.
- “My! My!” A gentle face popped into view. It plucked the piece of paper from my chest and placed it underneath a tiny bowler hat, which lay nestled between its ears. “What a kind face you have! May I offer you some assistance? It’s dreadfully woozy outside tonight. I can feel it in my nose. It knows, you know – knows what’s up. And what’s down. Speaking of – let’s get you up, shall we?” And with that, a small and shriveled part of me – which until this point I had been trying to vomit out – gave a tremble. It gave a tremble, and then kickstarted into life.
Olivia!? What the hell is this? 0/10. Do try harder. Must do better.
I repeat: I NEVER want to become boring.
Editor: Shannon Hensley
