tarzine

Sunday 2 August

I make zines that feel like listening to Melodrama and Brat at the exact same time.

For the poets choking on their own souls, the self-medicating freaks snorting ten shots of espresso and crying coffee tears, the vampires who desperately want to be human and dedicate their whole vampiric energy to mimicking the strange ways of people (with comedic and varying levels of success)

For anyone who has ever felt like the devil’s favourite child, the sluts with too many feelings, the Type 4s looking for a saviour beneath these dirty sheets, the ex believers waiting on a miracle that will come long after their soft parts have turned to ash

For the goblins eating pies in the streets of Morningside, the bodies defrosting from their styrofoam packages, every woman who's made a lifelong enemy of the same 5kg

For the friend who does not fit on the sidewalk, people lying in the fetal position in this womb of life, the wallflowers (I see you)

For everyone who knows signs aren't real but it's the way you look for them that counts for something

My love, this is for you