The debut of pre_adults, a skate poetry video series

At the time this video came in from JUICY, I was wrapping my head around a lot of the context behind my identity. History, really, and I was deep in— trying to grasp the impact of colonialism and politicised faith in my family and community, how embedded still in our shopping mall dystopia. Uncovering what was erased, what was changed, what was centred instead, how it fucked us up, how it still fucks us up. And how some effect of all those decisions manifested in me, born on the same land after so much has happened: the next generation to either perpetuate this mess or fix it. At night, anxieties and preoccupations translate to dreams. I paired this JUICY video with one of my dreams. 

 

An abandoned building
A cheap hotel, actually
Run by an old man
The gardens are pretty, but unmanageable. Wild.
Here it’s always night. Dark with a few lights.
I check in. I stay the night. I pay full price.
Four, five good looking boys are sleeping in my car the next morning
When I walk back.
Up close, they look evil. Pretty. Evil.
They ask me what am I doing in this country?
Am I from here? Why did I park here?
I pointed to the old building over there
I had to spend the night. Now I’m going home
Home
They throw me into another car
And drive me to their hideout
Other pretty people are there. Boys. Girls. Mostly boys
I don’t like any of this.
Eventually I figure out that the reason they don’t want me to leave
Is because they want to eat me alive
They discuss who gets which parts
I don’t feel like offering any input
I lean back
Disappear into my head
I drift back to the old building
It’s daytime now, but the streets around it are still night
I circle through and around it, like the wind, trying to find the place I first parked my car
The wind part of me fires up the ignition and I drive back to my mother’s house.
Life goes on as usual. But my mother suddenly says
I have visitors
The pretty and evil boys and girls have paid us a personal visit
They’re here to return my person. My body.
They found my address in the pockets and didn’t want to eat me because my soul went back home behind their backs
I sneak out the back to have a smoke with the girls, the nice ones
I’m trying to persuade them not to eat my mother
It’s okay, it’s okay if they take me back and eat me
They came all the way to find the rest of me here
so it must really mean something to them
And they must be starving by now
But, please, just not here

— Liyana Dizzy for JUICY

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