I trouble the bombs wearing stars; I see God tasting drugs as a massive angst clouds him; I drop all pink words to make my mind play a body's needs; I sell papa's staunch sorties to the place I week poll in the mess of my plan.
Clouds softly poll their troubles stop it now.
I give up my mess and bother plants calling as night is possible.
Roses softly glide to my world and I am binging as drunken star wears the drama of love in her phrased justice (Sore bodies I gain; poesy calls its name plastic hencock).
Blue name softly is here. Body climbs into plank walls with my mind in possible tests.
Fall in my mind and I will play yes to the drama wet and strong.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Fuss
No, I am here.
large pill
Work is fists not plastic.
Oh no.
Oh floor.
I am papa, the lens is his.
J o b.
large pill
Work is fists not plastic.
Oh no.
Oh floor.
I am papa, the lens is his.
J o b.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Big Brother Julia
I loved my mother.
More later.
Welcome to Rockaway Beach, Oregon.
Mmhmm. (Just clearing my throat).
My mind, or whatever it is, whatever you may call it, drifts back for convenience's sake, for the moment and what I hope to wring from it, to days of yore, say 5 or 6 years ago, when -- without your (my reader's) knowledge -- I would spend hour after hour writing in the most difficult of veins, the kind that, if it was a small amount more wrenching would have put me in the hospital, the kind that at 3 in the morning involved bout after bout of wailing and crying so that I was sure the police would soon arrive, the kind that might draw the attention of even my deafened mother. This fleeting thought recalls those days when I linked writerly perfection to emotional self-torture, so that only one word at a time might do for each aspect of traumatic recall that I enacted over hours in my old bedroom in the Arizona dark.
Now that I am in new environs, close to the ocean, only one state south of the places my relatives called home, I am entirely comforted in the thought that I will soon visit my Aunt Linnet in Bellingham, Washington, probably prepatory to moving to THAT area. I feel my stay here is untenable. I cannot let anger and pain become the accompaniments of familial love.
No one needs to become afraid because of my answers to my mind's cruelties.
I can be peaceful; I must be strong. For a long time I have thought I had reached my limits of both those qualities. I look forward to a bit of freedom that I recognize as a need to fulfill and a possibility of something faintly new.
I don't really write like this.
Safety, stability and security are my watchwords.
More later.
Welcome to Rockaway Beach, Oregon.
Mmhmm. (Just clearing my throat).
My mind, or whatever it is, whatever you may call it, drifts back for convenience's sake, for the moment and what I hope to wring from it, to days of yore, say 5 or 6 years ago, when -- without your (my reader's) knowledge -- I would spend hour after hour writing in the most difficult of veins, the kind that, if it was a small amount more wrenching would have put me in the hospital, the kind that at 3 in the morning involved bout after bout of wailing and crying so that I was sure the police would soon arrive, the kind that might draw the attention of even my deafened mother. This fleeting thought recalls those days when I linked writerly perfection to emotional self-torture, so that only one word at a time might do for each aspect of traumatic recall that I enacted over hours in my old bedroom in the Arizona dark.
Now that I am in new environs, close to the ocean, only one state south of the places my relatives called home, I am entirely comforted in the thought that I will soon visit my Aunt Linnet in Bellingham, Washington, probably prepatory to moving to THAT area. I feel my stay here is untenable. I cannot let anger and pain become the accompaniments of familial love.
No one needs to become afraid because of my answers to my mind's cruelties.
I can be peaceful; I must be strong. For a long time I have thought I had reached my limits of both those qualities. I look forward to a bit of freedom that I recognize as a need to fulfill and a possibility of something faintly new.
I don't really write like this.
Safety, stability and security are my watchwords.
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