Emotionally, it's like I fell asleep with my hand in the jar. Materially: like riding a bike and your shoelaces get stuck in the spokes*
I woke up and fell back sleep and woke up again and fell back asleep again, when I wake up tired it's like nothing is real -- it's like, if I can't remember it, did it happen -- at 11am after a few cycles it still feels like I needed a reset
Hello capricorn season. Ready to welcome it with open arms smiling from ear to ear, everything in its place, every rose has its thorn, every manger has its baby, every elephant has its room, tightening up my corset and boots in an attempt to compress my form into something beautiful or understandable
What i really think: is maybe i'm only attracted to whatever it is i can't be
two sides of the same coin
how many sides can a coin even have?
December hasn't brought anything but heaviness. Slow drip, snow and dark and when it's bright it's too bright and when it's cold it's warm inside but something's still frigid. Too full of something and empty of something else, I walked around in pallid grey snow hoping that the cold would shock me out of whatever cooking I'm doing to myself. Maybe it's best to wait til next year to sort it all out
Lately the nights have been spent dreaming useless dreams of abundance and domesticity, dreams of soft fabric and joy, a dream of letting someone into my tiny space and making them coffee while a movie plays -- but lately it's a problem; i'm unable to let myself into a movie's world, all i can think about is money: money as mana, as a life force flowing through everything; how much did this shot cost, how much did it cost to rent this room, these lenses, these actors; is this scene only here to show how much money it's possible for one to spend on manufacturing a temporary reality? A reality for just a second?
but a second could be forever if you pause, a second could be 24 forevers
In my dreams I think: please call me, i know what you'll say but i still wanna hear you say it
In my dreams I ride in the back of a pickup truck like some precious cargo
In my dreams when someone takes a photo of me it hurts
when i wake up it's like an I Spy puzzle where one thing in my room has changed but i don't know what**
I put on an old coat that's full of years of smells of cinnamon gum and cigarettes, I walk by the river by my house and think of jumping in every time just so I can imagine myself being colder than I am now and how much better it is to stay on the dock instead
Maybe in a year we'll all collectively remember there's more to life than endlessly waiting for packages til you die
time is just sludge so slow you can drag your finger through it
when the new year is here it will all feel better because at least we have a new calendar to stress about
phone on my chest i fall asleep again
*i never learned how to ride a bike
**i do know, it's me