READER, BEWARE


Madalyn Trewin studies writing in Canberra, Australia. You can usually find her picking at her cuticles, walking her dog, or writing for the lovely ladies at The Le Sigh. Otherwise, if you're looking, your best bet at finding her will be beneath her bed writing skeevy poetry about her ever stretching fear of growing taller than 5"5.   


INSIDE (IN DETAIL)

i bathe until the light leaves

(until) i’m left alone in the dark

the windows fade to the colour of the mountains

(the mountains) that line the horizon,

as far as your eyes can reach, but

the glass is right at the tips of my fingers. 

once

my father explained the colours, the scattering, the air

through the plaster of the bathroom wall 

but instead of letting the light in

i pushed the tips of my fingers between

between the glass and the window frame

the gap between my innards (and as far as my eyes can reach)

EXHALING, ON ACCIDENT

1. you

are hidden

in the kitchen 

around the corner 

from my worst

2. you

are hidden 

beneath shame

and a telephone table 

3. you 

are hidden 

behind denim 

and an ache 

4. you 

are hidden 

in the thick

of the inbetween 

– the moment, surrounded by 

one breath

in, 

and one out

       (for hours, i wonder

how long i can hold you in)

(and how long it will be before i can get you out)

thelesigh:

Girl Spotlight: Anna Ladd

My first ever interview over on The Le Sigh - discussing the Internet, art school, and confession with Philly’s best: Anna Ladd. 

thelesigh:

Girl Spotlight: Anna Ladd

My first ever interview over on The Le Sigh - discussing the Internet, art school, and confession with Philly’s best: Anna Ladd. 

JOURNAL ENTRIES #102, #91, #97, #83

15th of July 2014, 11:34PM 

even when i’m alone i can hear the toilet paper fall to the floor in the next room 

and the tickle in your throat

i block my nose, close my eyes, and dunk

last night i puked in a bag beside his bed and kissed him goodnight

16th of May 2014, 11:06PM 

my spine is curling in on itself

and i’ve cut the wires that connect my eyes to my brain

you’re directly opposite the tips of my sneakers, three steps away 

i could close them off, but i won’t

i would slow, you would slow 

i keep my back to you, i let myself into the nearest building 

they’re serving chicken accompanied by three layers of grease and two gallons of gravy 

that episode of seinfeld is on, the one with the fish in the bag and that box with the television inside of it 

i stick my head between my legs

i’m alright. are you alright? how are your elbows and your knees? 

3rd of June 2014, 12:04AM

a stye in one eye, one second of maple syrup on the collar of my shirt 

i drove past your old house, i guessed the date

we don’t talk anymore

7th of April 2014, 10:36PM

i’m driving down the narrow road that meets the end of your street

the speakers have blown out 

my mouth hasn’t stopped for twelve hours

i’m driving past roadkill that looks like an animal’s head and flesh pulled against the body of a person 

i forget to click off my headlights and my battery’s flat tomorrow

COMPILATION: I Know Why the Caged Grrrl Sings
I had too much to say about Tuff Enough’s latest compilation - head over to The Le Sigh and watch me burst out a girlish squeal over the course of a couple hundred words. And then drill your ears into this damn good, damn powerful LP.  

COMPILATION: I Know Why the Caged Grrrl Sings

I had too much to say about Tuff Enough’s latest compilation - head over to The Le Sigh and watch me burst out a girlish squeal over the course of a couple hundred words. And then drill your ears into this damn good, damn powerful LP.