st malls

queen st gothic
  • the refill machine in hungry jack’s is gone. you stand perplexed at the counter, cautiously eyeing the gaping void in the floor. it will swallow you next.
  • you ride the escalator up to allan’s music, only to find yourself inside rebel sports. you try to leave but there is no way out. the sportswear rustles in the breeze, but there is no way out. where is the wind coming from? there is a rumble from the back of the store. there is no way out.
  • you’re trying to leave the reject shop without purchasing anything. the cashiers stand stock-still at their registers. you slink past the still figures as their eyes follow you. so many eyes. all of them, watching. the guilt presses down on you as heavy as the concrete above your head. their eyes are accusatory, demanding, black as coal. they’re still watching.
  • has the music from culture kings always been so loud, you wonder as you walk past. the speakers shriek the sibilant sounds of ancient tongues as you stride past. the old man with the saxophone plays on, oblivious. the shrieking gets louder. you try to order your oasis juice but you can’t hear yourself over the screaming. the bass pounds steadily.
  • you duck into the alley behind hungry jack’s for a cigarette. the stench of blood is overpowering. claw marks deep as trenches stretch the length of the alleyway. you hear the rattle of cages from the carpark at the end, almost drowning out the distant sobbing of a child. you finish your cigarette.
  • you’re walking through the myer centre, shopping aimlessly. you come across an escalator, but it’s out of order. you keep walking. you come across another escalator, but it too is out of order. you keep walking. you walk for hours. every elevator, escalator and staircase is cordoned off. you keep walking. you have been walking for days, now, or is it weeks? is that the third sumo salad that you’ve passed or the fourth? it doesn’t matter. the next escalator you see is out of order. you keep walking.

do you know what id do right now to have some chips and mushroom sauce like oh my god have you ever gone to jojo’s in queen st mall and had chips with mushroom sauce there because oh my god. fuck. i think about them a lot