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Chris Holdsworth

[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”1682″ img_size=”large” alignment=”center”][vc_separator color=”white”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Willawong. Sixteen years old

walking home from school

meeting Johnno. A pack of fags by the road.

Time has made me think of                            again.

We stop in the alley.

Lick, slop, the mouthfeel

oral fixation, the                          

At first it’s weird but the taste not unpleasant

coolness across your body. Relax.

Time to stop being mad with                          

Time to                          

Dad found out: the music of knees cracking fags

crunching under his weight the                          

Time to stop                           [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column][vc_separator color=”white”][vc_separator color=”white”][vc_separator][vc_column_text]Chris Holdsworth is an emerging writer currently studying a Bachelor of Fine Arts (Creative Writing) at QUT.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]