glory!

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

alien observer

ive been in the same place for a year and its been such an awful decade for me. no peace and no single not a thing at all. no creature. no nothing.

been a year since a significant moment, or group of moments in my life. i want to come back home drunk and wake up fresh, i want my parents to love me. i want to feel loved. theres nothing but resentment in this house. maybe black mold in the carpet from all the years. the black mold is the ghost of all that was. im the ghost of all that could have been. were all ghosts of the things we miss or want to have around like charms.

love ghost stories. love nosferatu and coppolas dracula movie. i wish something far more powerful than me was enchanted and infatuated by me. wish it would pluck me away. to be defined by something so much bigger than me. i wish i could fall into a thick, slapping love. a dense, bashing delirium.

i had to redo my new industrial piercing and i think ill have to do it again. i dont want to but i will. i dont know what else. my jestrum. i want a cigarette, semesters almost over and im doing just fine. im tired and battered and i wish i could redo my teenage years, do them differently. i think ill start doing pilates. i need to take something seriously before all of my youth leaves me and i dont have neuronal elasticity. i dont relate to people. i cant connect.

soon ill get a hint.

sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.