şђ𝔦ttЎ ＬᎥ𝓽𝔱𝓛𝕖 вᵒу

Shitty little boy who is a man who is a myth who keeps escaping the net.

Cut the chain, or keep it. Wear it in your teeth. Throw it into the sea. Whatever, dude.

I become this. I become that. I become increasingly difficult to explain in classrooms.

You clap once from the back of the room.

Kiss kiss, bye bye.

See you in two months.
See you when the moon changes departments.
See you if the paperwork goes through.

You are the scientist with your little instruments and your careful hands.

I am all of your papers blowing down the street in the rain.

What is the evidence?

What is the equation for wanting something that keeps stepping backwards?

Be cool, I tell myself.

My hair is pulled so tight it has entered another tax bracket.

I am the tongue collecting your light from the bottom of the swimming pool.

I swallow too quickly.

Get a grip, hunnybunny.

Too eager. Too obvious.

You know this.

You know this in the way cats know where the warm part of the house is.

You are rolling your eyes somewhere beautiful.

I can feel it.

Meanwhile, I die twelve times a day beneath a ceiling so tall the birds have started nesting in it.

The air up there is different.

The clouds are slower.

Shitty little boy.

You keep walking away with your hands in your pockets while mine are full of you.

Coco-Lily Garrett-Kellett is a writer, dancer and creative based in Brisbane, Australia. Born and raised in Melbourne, she has also spent significant time in the United States.

She is currently studying Creative Writing at Queensland University of Technology. Her work has appeared in Ethics Magazine, Zona Motel, and has been published multiple times in QUT’s Glass Magazine and ScratchThat.

She spends much of her time trying to make difficult things beautiful and beautiful things difficult.