Recount

It was an erratic weekend. A swirl of costume changes, searching for collective nouns, one too many one too manys and forgetting what the fuck I saids.

Frock one.

If you can't make it. Fake it. A good outfit always helps. I'm a one woman shoe looking for some strings and something to bang. I'm pashing peices of paper and passing them to strangers. Posing for photos and hiding from family, teetering around in these shoes that don't fit. Too high up from the earth.

Costume change.

I'm last weeks shiny. Too thin hangovers stretched under heat across my belly. The metaphor wouldn't seem so tragic if I hadn't fallen over myself on stage. we wiggle our hips till the harmony slips down to reveal bare flesh. Exit stage left.

Cock Tales

I'm up to my thighs in shiny. Holes for my legs to fall through. I turn to jelly and go hunting for beer tickets. Shot through the heart.

One peice.

Thank god for the elastic. It's all a bit loose. We parade our independence. No suspenders in site.
Reward ourselves with more alcohol. Work it like a sweatshop. My judgement goes sideways. An elegant swagger. I zip up my swag to keep my morality in.

Code Red.

I can't even look into my own eyes. My focus plays pingpong with the room. I tried to come up with the words to tell you how I felt but I didn't trust my instinct or my ability to speak. So I put on this outfit instead. Grind my teeth instead of my arse. Fall into the couch and stop moving. Crawl into my friends bus in the late evening. Spend the next three days in the bath.

Exit stage right.