Said it nine times, to be exact. Writhed. Green wax, too hot. “I just want to think about one thing.” Tied, it’s all negotiation anyway. Everything is always panning out. Do you remember when… I charged myself, in the mirror, with realism… you had so little idea what to do that you didn’t even have a sense of the words, the tightness, the heat?
A ring of flames surrounds the house, protecting not only me and my roommates but also the other tenants. Somehow the fire contains itself, not licking anything combustible. Took a series of prayer-oriented workshops this weekend, all about the Venus Cazimi. It is amazing, my ability to wander with lyrics. Light me up.
In which I move through a sequence of panic, turn myself off and on, like I am broken again. The contemporary text of my body needs a proof-reader. You?
Enjoyed the snow from the top-floor window. Pressed the back of my head into the floor. Put a cup of water down so my dreams would be more clear. Slosh of devotions on rotation. Jo called me late last night, just to share. Didn't remember until this afternoon.