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[13 Jan 2002|12:29pm] i am wearing a skirt. it is not skirt weather. but what can you do. my legs are smudged with thumbprints of bruises. kaleidoscopes of some pretty ugly colors. anyway, i don't know. i don't know what to write or say. the sun is out, the sky is bright blue, clouds whipped cream. and i don't know. everything i could say feels kind of irrelevant, i haven't really been able to write properly..somewhat a battle to spit these words out. maybe there is no need for words now.. which i guess is okay, since i never knew what to do with them anyway. hm. 4 comments|post comment

[31 Dec 2001|03:03pm] slept strangely, my collarbone is sore. keep stretching my arms to the ceiling to help, my blue shirt sliding up my stomach. it's cold today, and bright, the lines of trees in the distance somehow a brownish red. can't decide whether or not to sever, to bow out of myself and walk around in a state that's more ghost-like so i won't have to notice what's going on until it's over. things are faster now and there's not much time left, and i know, it is just hard to believe in a thing unless i have it. . riding home, the sun caught in my eyes, the black pavement ahead of me swerving, warm in my coat while i think and just think about you, and really that's all there is.

250, 000 [20 Dec 2001|06:08pm] tap tap tapping my feet on the floor, several rhythms at once. the steady beat of thought, the pumping of blood in a heart, inout, inout, fill it in, up, with red. town today: people running up and down the sidewalks, a boy jumping in the air to smack hanging signs. the whole place covered in warm orange light, the smudged, dirty windows grabbing hold of the sunset, reflecting it off of themselves, blasting it into my eyes. hiding in the passenger seat, hands on my face, burrowed into my sweater. we bought flowers. another bag of trash to burn, another fingernail moon in the sky. the radio spitting industrial sounds out, a bassline twirling in my head. taking backroads in a tiny village, staring at the blank faces of empty houses, eyes like windows, and i want to peer into them, i can see the sunlight that is fading through them, lighting up tables and chairs and i think a piano? i don't know. i think that i want to live in a place with stairs to climb, ivy lurching itself up the sides of the house. when i was 10 in english class my teacher would tell us to sit in a circle on the white floor; we'd weave stories, someone starting it and throwing it to some other someone to continue. can still remember the way my heart raced, i knew how clumsy with words and with voice i was, always the pressure to say the right thing and in the end saying nothing.

[18 Dec 2001|10:51pm] lucille: a woman precedes me up the long rope. her dangling braids the color of rain. maybe i should have had braids. maybe i should have kept the body i started, slim and possible as a boy's bone. maybe i should have wanted less. maybe i should have ignored the bowl in me burning to be filled. maybe i should have wanted less. the woman passes the notch in the rope marked sixty. i rise toward it, struggling, hand over hungry hand. post comment

hum. humming. [18 Dec 2001|05:00pm] the sunset bright, fire bright, streaks and stripes of burning orange, pink, piled onto each other, ribbons of sunlight tied into and onto one another. the buildings outside, pink rubbing against their cold grey metal walls, the windchimes catching the color, swaying in the breeze. in a stone's far off throw in the other direction, the other horizon, there is another sky, more hushed, dark blues, colder. one side burns, one side is mute. it was not cold today, though i built a fire outside to stare into, a gaping mouth to throw old papers to, my handwriting illegible, curling and blackening in the flame. slightly the days are slowing down, changing, the date is circled on the calendar. the security light on a high pole next to the window has just lit itself up, signaling the end of the cycle of a day, the slow shifting into a new one. there is not much to do but wait.

[16 Dec 2001|05:32pm] neutral rainstorm, a twist of alchemy slipped and fell, you shattered your collarbone like a mirror and i stitched you back together. that is all there is to the story. we wanted to loom, and now we hang above the sea.

now the water to my ankles. now the water to my knees. [16 Dec 2001|04:14pm] all my spilling life shoved into boxes, packed away in the closet until it is time to leave. went to bed with the sound of rain trickling down my window, with the sound of wind pushing against the house. grey today, the trees and horizon darker than usual. things are speeding up to wind down. (speaking in secret meanings, my he art is full-sized in my chest) hello, you*

[08 Dec 2001|07:00pm] the trees like black lungs, small explosions of limbs tangled together. could barely see the sunset, the numb bruise purple edges, the blushed reds. as if it were aflame. i am not empty.

[06 Dec 2001|02:05pm] girlmeat, you shudder and you shake, bait for the ravenous dogs. your jeans with the holes in their knees, you bow below the rise of the sun. your bones like piano keys, weaver of hollow sound voice rasping like a dirge, a death song. halation, you sway in and out of fever you tumble down inside yourself a landslide, seething, seeking the cold moon.

[01 Dec 2001|01:39pm] the cuticle on my left thumb seems to have exploded; dried blood lies in the space between hard/soft. i wish for a lot, but mainly to stop being so awkward. mainly to stop regretting everything i say. i can't torture myself over the things that have been said, that have been done. i can only go on, try to be better. i keep forgetting that i have a life, the power to do things that i need to. i've reached the point where i don't hate myself to the degree that i won't allow myself to do those things. i don't know how i did, but it's there, and i'm different. i feel that, now, it's very important that each of us take care of ourselves, of each other. i feel that now that i can do that for myself i can do that for others. and that's all i've ever really wanted.

[27 Nov 2001|04:14am] it is the speed of time, the wet and slippery motion in my hands. i collect it, silver as mercury. my bones ache with the weight. the night is liquid black and so fast. i glide through it, i slide through its silent waters. coherency means nothing, only emotion, only thought, only the twist of your body. our bodies, like trees, coming up. roots through the earth.

[27 Nov 2001|03:36am] grey gloves clothing cold hands. everything has been cold lately. the hunger, the fear. mix cds. seed bracelets. numb ankles from sitting in an awkward position. the awkward aching. it's strange to think that everyone i know is in this moment sleeping. i feel kind of..all protective. maybe i'm keeping the world spinning, i could be. i like to watch sleeping figures. if i ever get to you i don't think i'll cease taking pictures. things are peaceful and it is odd. i feel like..it should be snowing right now. something quiet, something subtle, should be happening. maybe something is, though? something internal. the veryquiet tapping of these keys beneath a sickly yellow lightbulb. the gloves mute their crash. i'm taking money out of my bank account to buy dresses. my hands are cold, and if i don't keep the blood going they curl up, inert. but i still write. my paper journal is becoming its own strange creature, i feel unattached from the things i've written there. it's been, mostly, incoherent writhing when i couldn't scream. lots of italics, capitals, underlining. the edges of a few of the pages are burnt. some have indentations from where i raked my pen down the length of them. no blood this time, though.

[26 Nov 2001|02:17pm] paint the sky pale violet. velvet in my hands. snow's coming. cold's rushing in, the rain soon to turn to ice. not ready for winter. not ready for stagnation. need to go back to spring, to that energy, that hum in the earth. i know i will survive but it can be so ugly.

[25 Nov 2001|05:14pm] swinging over like a heavy-loaded fruit tree. falling woman in dancing costume. dreamy music make it be all right. pink skirt. i write small when i'm frightened. when i'm surrounded by people i feel it, electric, crawling up and down my spine. i cried in front of my mother last night, my shoulders hitching. now i am on guard to not expose any emotion. i hate this. if i were alone i could do as i please, whether it be sitting numb and mute or screaming. it would be a nice change, but probably dangerous. 1 comment|post comment

[24 Nov 2001|04:41am] [ mood | dizzysickshudder ] elizabeth smart: if you are overwhelmed, you might as well relax in the whirlpool. it's winning. all you can learn is ecstatic surrender. a couple of decades will see you out of this bondage. post comment

[24 Nov 2001|03:44am] sleep is something that's not going to happen, i guess. feel nervous, like i'm on the verge of spilling out of my body. hair sticking straight up again, shooting in all directions. things are tense. it's storming outside. post comment

[23 Nov 2001|08:54pm] i would like to watch you sleeping. i would like to watch you, sleeping. i would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head time is going quickly now and i am grateful. almost too quickly though, as if my grip were slipping. but not that i would mind, i think. it would be good to be washed away in time, to not worry, to not sit and stare at the motionless clocks. and where have you been. if you go i will surely die. post comment

[22 Nov 2001|03:37pm] [ music | negative creep negative creep ] all right time to get my shit together and pull myself back to the ground. been floating around above my head for the past month or so. have to be a little more human. hate feeling so disconnected from my life/self/body. been mistreating my body and i'm paying for it now, feel sick and weak. feverish. how do i make this clear of obscurity. my mother now knows i haven't been on medication. didn't bother to empty the pill bottles; it's evident that i haven't been taking them. it's okay though. i've been on something or other since may and i'm just tired of needing them. need to try to do this on my own for a while. need to feel like i'm myself. watched alice in wonderland last night. my shirt is in the same striped pattern as the cheshire cat. remembering the girl from freshman year with the brown hair, the shirt that said we're all mad here. i guess we were, that year was a blur. in the tendency that time has, to smear in memory. feel smeared, i guess. dizzy. head keeps doing that curious flutter. probably means something, silent alarms going onoff.

[19 Nov 2001|03:18pm] she said every time your name was spoken i smiled. not used to being so happy, feel all dizzy and disconcerted. filled out a social security form. had to answer questions--recent events, famous people, subtract by sevens from 100. i guess i will qualify and then will be able to pay my medical bills. i don't know. this sort of wasn't in my grand plan of things, i didn't consider ever needing to go on aid. actually in a way it's embarrassing even though i know i shouldn't think of it in that way. everyone thinks of it positively save me. i'd just rather find a job and pay for it myself. i don't know. the past few months i've just been wanting to be independent. i try to tell myself it won't last forever, that it's just temporary help. it's not a step backward. oh i don't know. i feel strange. feel taut, like i'm barely containing myself. keep having dreams of you. do i invade your head like you do me? augh. augh. detaching myself from things. winding down. slowly unfurling myself, standing up on my own. etc. i lie in bed and stare at the things in my room. feel myself slipping away from them. i think before i move i will be ridding myself of a lot of things. the old clothes, the books, the pictures. keeping some objects, though. the journals. all those nights screamed down onto paper, caught between the notebook's covers. proof. evidence. incriminating, yeah. that too. i need so little. a few cds, a couple of old dresses. my own space, my candles and scarves and body contained in a small room. i will be quiet, unattached. just below the surface, causing no trouble. i am eager to get out of here. 1 comment|post comment

[18 Nov 2001|08:13pm] oh. okay i'll scribble in this just to keep my mind off of things. this is a very frightening time. i am very scared of everything right now. i am very scared of never having you. i am a tactile person. i like to touch things. i like to be touched. and i like things now. i like to have people. now. i would like to have you now. i feel like everything about me has completely changed. all my energy/emotion/desire is now directed towards you. and this has never happened before, so i don't know how to control it.

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