glory! : watching nothing doing it all

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...

Saturday, May 4, 2024

watching nothing doing it all

i feel watched but not much more than i already did. I simply feel like an eye has been added to Gods eternal head.

these weeks i let my acrylics break and i peeled them off bleeding in order to play the guitar. ive been playing my instruments everyday, drawing less-. i do miss my long red stiletto nails.

been doing not much at all but stressing over school- it might be completely over and my heart is still broken over everything.

ive been thinking of

its like i let Him do anything to me with the hopes that Hell talk to me but He doesnt talk to me and still does anything He wants. because He always does. and i cant feel loved with these kinds of punishments. i dont want that. i dont want to feel so sick anymore or anything. i want life to feel beautiful. GOD PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT. GOD LISTEN TO ME! I DO WHAT I MUST! this song from the opera tosca- vissi d'arte! me!

i feel ashamed of my constant behavior. i feel so starved of conversation. real human conversation where its not me trying to convince someone im not insane.

i got more crosses on my back. i dont think i mentioned that. i dont think i mentioned the ankh on my leg either. i got it for the hunger by david bowie. blackout. and i got a bunch of beautiful crosses over my back. im getting more soon. i got some stars on my stomach for bowie as well. and i was always a star girl. never much of a heart girl. mostly 5 point stars.

dont feel like i deserve my boyfriend. hes kind. but God does he annoy me sometimes. its who he is. very rational. i feel my vibes are so bad. honestly. i love his teeth.

im so stressed it hurts, i feel so alien and misunderstood so constantly. i wish i could scream. i constantly feel the need to yell and scream and hit someone or something. i repress it though. obviously.

i also got small white fine line crosses on the middle of each of my middle fingers, on the palm side. hurt like hell and theyve already faded bad. im getting them done in red ink soon.

new medicine is making me nauseous. badly! it does kind of work. well enough for the circumstance. also i cant rid of the feeling of wanting to run away forever. its so strange and painful here. this world is so cruel.

and i love my friends so much. so so so much. im so happy with them. im happy when i with them .

and i still now dream of and long so badly for glamour, a long silk sleep robe and beautiful linen and long black hair that shines blue and white. i still dream of a beautiful apartment in new york. but i need to see an opera so badly right in this moment. i want so badly to be beautiful and shiny. i want my skin to pale down. i want all of the jewels, i want a new gold chain, ive been into sapphire and gold lately. my tiffany charms chain broke. it wasnt tiffany but it was important to me. anyway. i want new rings and new everything and all things beautiful. my skin is so bad.

someday ill be rich because of my own merits. im not very good at anything in particular but i will be. obsessed with moulin rouge and burlesque. and silent film. i wouldve devoured the 20s had i been alive.

rumination is doing fine. alive and well. eater of worlds alive and well rotting in her room.

im working on a new project in regards to my writing. it is called death eternal. short stories. thats that.

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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.