glory! : mosquito

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...

Friday, June 7, 2024

mosquito

i am attending summer school. free of charge. yay! kinda sucks. have to get up 6 am ish to get here at 8.30.

im thinking of my album and feeling unproductive. ive bitten my nails to stumps again. i feel weird. i want new friends. i feel lonely. im getting a tongue piercing this saturday because my parents will leave for a 10 day long trip. and it should be fun. painful as hell probably. if they dont see it ill be fine. its going to be quite small so whatevsies. not looking forward to the healing or the taste of blood. hope it doesnt hurt much. im going to a professional.

i want to see people. i need a party. drink a bit go a bit stupid. im tired. my digestions doing better but still needs some more time. i think. i hope.

third day of summer school, supposed to end around maybe the 28th, i hope life gets easier. ive been sad lately, more existencial dread than anything. the feeling of time clipping forward and whatever. or that april was a million years ago. i need to be put down like a dog.

its been such a strange lapse of time these days i feel like i want do do more with my life but i feel i cant really. the elections were not so long ago and i live in a red city. everyones pissed. i hate it here. if im outed as a communist i will probably be executed or something. i hope i make it. im allergic. OOHHH. i might not be cisgender. i dont fit here. i feel like im putting on a costume and putting on a show. i am going to ignore this information further.

im afraid i might be schizophrenic of schizoid ish. but because i consider this information i think im psyop-ing myself. maybe not. uh oh!

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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.