I made this, I have forgotten And remember.The rigging weak and the canvas rottenBetween one June and another September.Made this unknowing, half conscious, unknown, my own. The garboard strake leaks, the seams need caulking. This form, this face, this life Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me Resign my life … Continue reading Between one June and another September.
death
Dispossession.
Well, hello again. It's been awhile. I've been stuck in a state of indecision and lethargy and not entirely certain which path to take. I've decided to take all of them. Simultaneously, or as close to that as the linear process of writing will allow. I'd tell you to buckle up, but you're already buckled, … Continue reading Dispossession.
So. Here we are.
So.We’re here, using whatever we can to justify the killing of the unborn — unwanted, special needs, birth defects — that’s quite a loaded one, the last one. Let’s talk about it. I’ve got some things to say. I was adopted at 3hrs old. My parents waited 7yrs for me. My sister is their biological … Continue reading So. Here we are.
Catalysts are made to be burned.
I do not want this. With every fiber of my being, I do not want to be here. The heat. The ants. The fucking gravestone that I refuse to maintain. I never bring flowers. I shouldn’t have to. I should not have to come here. For fuck’s sake. It’s hot and humid today; the marble … Continue reading Catalysts are made to be burned.
There is yet faith.
She would be 20.
And let my cry come unto thee.
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. “The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very … Continue reading And let my cry come unto thee.
Thinking about stuff at 3am.
Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. The Dying Gaul. I can't sleep, even though I would really love it. My mind spins when everything is quiet, and I usually try to distract myself to get it to stop. But I've got Kaleo's All the Pretty Girls stuck in my head, … Continue reading Thinking about stuff at 3am.
memento mori.
In which I try with limited success to avoid the cliche of Hamlet's most famous soliloquy.
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