Happy Halloween when we all know it should be Happy Halloweed, or at least vogue. Well I am off to find some gin, catch you 'round.

Vodka and cranberry on a lonely deck. Fuck it ! We're all dying like Great Aunt Margaret and the others who all thought thoughts and now aren't. Wow, nineteen is swell.

We aren't classy, we drink it from the bottle. Our hair is unkempt and our hearts are tar laden. We want to get high, see the sky, fly. We want to feel, because we're so fucking sick of being nothing.

I can't breathe from sparkling wine and pretty music. Oh sha-bam! It's pretty sad, because you realise, you're all so much older than the beginning. I wish I had died somewhere along the way.

It would be nice to be smart, but I must say, I prefer being silly.

Busy is good and less deathly than one might assume. I am simplifying my life. It's all sun and work and saving and alcohol and salad and juice and stuff. It's nice and there are people and conversation and sweet boys who buy creamy soda and smile at you. I hope it lasts this time, because sadness is shit and always comes a knock-knock-knocking.

I just want to go home. I haven't been there in years. It got lost in sadness and grey.

My face is a contortionist. It is pretty amazing.

It is so awful to see how ugly I have become.

Rain for two days and nostalgia wont go away. Fuck off.

Dear Melancholy, It has been a while. Welcome back.

They're all we have.

Today all I want is, some vegemite toast and a cup of tea. It's easier, wanting simple things.

Sunlight wandering, trees create flecks of warmth and cool upon skin and hot asphalt seeps into bones. Ten cent lollies in a bag, melting and sticking. Swings and bark scratching feet. Running and laughing and lying and dying. Tea and chairs and flowers. Bare legs and dancing moths and long, long days that, ironically, are fleeting. Smoke is lingering about your face and your teeth are rotting from sugar.