It rained when she came and did the same when she left
So now I sit here alone at my desk.
It was the middle of summer
the light from dawn slid down through your shutter
The two of you together, the way it should be
I doubt you ever pause to think of me.
The new boys are dancing and I cannot focus
I run away and forget to leave notice.
It was a strange series of events and hard to get over
I spend monday, tuesday, wednesday trying to get sober.
A crab the colour of mud slides down a spider’s silky thread looming over my bed
I lie with my cheek against the floor watching it scuttle closer and closer to me although it remains unrecognizable
I try to stomp it with my fist…i don’t know what happens next
Mice scurry above my head and I hope that they are not rats
A light goes out and I sleep the rest of the night on the sofa not listening to the knocks on the window
Falling through the ceiling and onto my sheets.
In the final battle the rats/mice would probably kick the shit out of my cat
Perhaps I will hire Lucifer from Cinderella for the weekend
I hate all my writing.
I have deleted myself to the point where i barely exist.
I eat raw garlic
and scratch out my list.
I want to be rid of you
I left so much behind
but unlike you at times I don’t really mind.
Not much left here was a lie
cause there is so much still inside.
You will never see, I bind you times three.
Sometimes I rhyme but not always
I find very little peace these days.
“In extreme fear human eyes do bulge out as blood pressure rises and the hydrostatic pressure of the cranial fluids increase” - Stephen King
I’m getting to know all the shadows out my window.
Even one unidentifyed line breathes chaos.
I need blinds.
Following the death of a Pharoh’s daughter ten thousand domestic animals were slaughtered. Including six hundred pigs & two thousand peacocks. The pigs were scented with attar roses prior to their throats being cut. It was her favorite purfume. The pyramids are tombstones.
Just prior to or shortly after the death of someone close to me I either purge or lose jewellery. I romanticized at the time and still allow myself to imagine that someday my someone will find what has been lost or is missing and rescue me from suffering any further. I often flash back to my tiny ring racing, sifting against the gentle currents to the mud at the bottom of an unknown lake.
Arriving on set already I feel lost. I really don’t want to act, I’m scared I’ll be blank.
I don’t know anyone’s name and I want a coffee and donut. The donuts arrive and I refuse to eat one cause it’ll ruin my face paint. I brush my teeth again.
The dog is coming at twelve and my pretend murderer is changing.
A gritty way of seeing the world.
I look at photos taken the day before of essentially the same thing and compare them to the ones taken with my eyes. Mine are much more gritty. I did not do this on purpose and I’m not trying to put the other photographer down in anyway. There is just a difference that is noticeable to me.
I think that when you’ve been in the trenches capturing intensity comes naturally.
That is all.
I would have no complaints if I spent the rest of my days like that.
Being in love with Creative Expression far surpasses any physical high. The two in combination would be frightening.
I have no more words left to say how grateful and happy I am.
Looking at the shore from out at sea, I miss that. My hair smelling like sea salt on my pillow at night. Staying out until the tide rushes over my feet. My purse was always so heavy full of rocks and shells. Today it is filled with lost imagination. I have mac and cheese and remember what fresh clams and garlic taste like.
