Nightmares and nap-mares all in and over me. Things that break my heart, and myself just screaming until my voice gives out. It carries into the waking day. How can i ever feel… Like I’m enough? How can i make myself feel like I’m whole and complete and enough? Smoke, and the sparkling crackle of not quite dry things burning. Watching rows and rows of stubborn weeds bow and shrink before the flame. Shrink into nothing but ash. Good. Die. Victory in a battle I’ve fought for months. I need real work. I need real money. I don’t t want to lead tours anymore. Time to sleep. Dreams, please, be gentle with me.
Hahaha everything feels sad to me. My period surprised me and all the emotions I’ve been holding in check are all up on me. The main themes in Hamlet are madness, revenge, religion, and political instability. Fight me if you thing I’m wrong. Fight me if you think i have too many weeds in my front yard. I choose trial by combat and my weapon of choice is the force of my unbridled anger about the way the bourgeoisie exploits the proletariat. Maybe we should get married for the wedding gifts. Maybe i should live off loans and get a doctorate. Maybe love is that steel you find when your loved one needs it. Maybe it’ll be alright if i can just move past this. Yeah. I’ll tease and lead you with the promise of a goal and I’ll destroy and feed you to a spectre or a ghost, it’s good. The rooms of all my dreams are all filled up with bad mistakes, the ones i’d let go and the ones i would just make and make. Yeah.
I want the words i put here to fix everything. I want to put an ellipses in the skin of my foot and i want it to stay forever. An omission between two thoughts, for me to fill in myself. I want to be fucking everything it takes to be a good partner. A support and a rock and a stalking leopard. I want to be the needed strength, and need nothing. And that’s it. I want the words i put here to fix everything.
Just wanna cry, i don’t know how to spark excitement in your eyes. If not for me or us or home i dunno. I’ll try. Fuck I’ve been trained up by society. Still always tryna unprogram that shit inside me. Learn to say, full, what i do or don’t need. Find a way to avoid the aquarium of my dreams. Sleep, sleep on my leg. for a moment, all is safe in that mutagenic space. Charged with hope and holes and hate. Who am I? Who have i ever been? A shaken fighter in a ring with no clear rim.
I’ve always hated interacting with the fans of things that i love. You don’t love it the right way. Your thoughts upon it tarnish it. I don’t want to hear what it means to you. No. It twists my guts up. I’ve always sucked at interacting. At trying to relate, on an even keel, it lights my guts up. I can perform. I can perform 90 minute presentations where i spark and entertain. i can perform 5 minute conversations where i hit all the right social cues but gain nothing. Yeah. It is what it is. I am
I just want this time to feel joyous and celebratory, but of course that’s not how the fuck it works. It’s fraught like every moment of being alive is fraught. Something I’ve been dreaming about and hoping for and trying to work toward for years. It’s finally, finally real and it’s better than i could have hoped and i love it but i can’t feel joy. At least not for longer than a moment. Cool. Cool. Cccccccccool. So many emotions already happening. Excitement, disbelief, thick Anxiety about making this work, affording this place, living up to what my family expects of me. And now… More. Anger and also some different type of anger and also regret, about what one little sentence could set in motion. A weariness that sits heavy like a fog. That sneaks lead into my bones. The mirrors in this house, the reflections in the windows, are showing so much of me and I’m having real bad body issues about it, on top of everything. Feeling disgusted (whathaveIdone?) Lead in my bones. Navigate. Try to move. What the actual fuck should i do? I should try to sleep probably. It’s late and tomorrow is a whole ‘nother thing. Peace
A golden glow around my heart