-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Moon, My Man

"Mother" is currently eating my head 'mantis style' and I am still thrusting and trying to please as my brains turn to ether and my self turns to empty white space. There are strengths of character and there are crossings of thin lines into cast iron maidens where my former lotus once flourished now so many crushed petals and seeping ochre turned nectar. I am wishing for an escalator and a trench coat and a suitcase and a card stock ticket to elsewhere and a mirror to remember my Self in. He is scratching from inside dark wolf in a steel trap and a blood seeping paw - I am turning this tool drawer upside down but I can't find my screwdriver and the projection of my internal Alexander is more often lingering somewhere by the sunset these days - blue shell painting zombie-like at cogs for machine wheels and my own sweet Calypso is silent, steel grey.

It's enough to set my Christmas tree aflame, don my Stiletos and go hunting.

I may be a little behind the times, but I just discovered Feist and I think I might be in love:

11:25 a.m. - 2007-12-13
1 comments

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next