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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2003-01-07 | 4:49 p.m. Reaching across my face with my right hand, I slip my fingernails under the skin on my left temple and cheekbone, and peel away, pull and peel away this face and these feelings and who I am today and who I will never be now and pull up a little when I get to the chin and then pull down a bit when I'm almost done, and I slap it, sticky-side down, onto my monitor. If only. If I could simply take a big breath, concentrate and then purge directly onto the page. One big, satisfying splat of the stuff, swipe of the lip, whaalah. It's beautiful. Looks a bit like flying foxes. *tilting head* Or a vase. Still, I'd have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow. Fire inside my skull, ice at the center of my back between my shoulder blades. Thunder in my gut. Lightening when I bite down too hard on that left lower molar. I am so goddamned lost. Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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