i'm so helplessly flustered and fragmented. finals are next week. strangely, i'm thriving in inspiration, but i've just no time to exhibit my ideas in a timely manner. so i'm working hastily. and most disjointed. fingers shaking. entire body shaking.

below is a painting of flesh i'm constructing for a series. still wet. collaged images will be mounted on tiny squares, submerged and emerging from it. we'll see how this goes. i'm ready to get out of here. bruised, but ready.

(flesh painting no. 6, acrylic & spray paint on canvas, 2012.)

mindsight dreamlets
plummeting pits
filling up
my stomach--
please poppy
(do not
wilt) stay--
stay sincere

explosions within my heart's moon. foolishly, willing aware forever. gaze out. breath in. i calamity. only supernova sensation. perfection of us. the because i cannot see. breath out. gaze in. i am now experiencing this cosmic dissipation of caution. speckled shackled and submissive. and there will be nothing left in me for the star's control because she's taken it. and i want her to hold it, always. but gaze wise--keeping the clashing resentment of this feeling. then go blindly there. and stand open before it's face. should dark wounds arise, i will myself to carry on debilitated. i will do anything. it's the curse of  falling infinitely. frailly. forever. forever. & ever.

keep catching myself humming her. can't stop. can't sleep.

take the branch of the willow and snap it in your palm. let the sap seep deep and kiss it. spin it delicately in a spiral of winding circles. keep doing this until it disappears. keep doing this until you disappear.

this morning i woke with the most aching sadness. something must've occurred beneath those spells of slumber. but i cannot remember. there is not even a figment of recollection. only blackness. it has now been hours since my waking, but the grip is persistent and unrelenting. there is a heavy helix lingering, knotted in my throat and in the stygian abysm of what i cannot retrieve.

within us eternally resides a delicate recoil, a drawback, a fissure, a parting. as human entities we struggle perilously to fuse those holes which haunt us. though, they are inescapable, it simply is completely inevitable. lost lovers, lost souls, lost identities, forgotten letters, misplaced belongings, vacant dreams—hollows ensue in all existences. it is in the attempts to mend our own molds where we lose ourselves. when instead we should be traversing the openings, embracing the concealed unknowns, perhaps even morphing our psyches in a dark dance with them—rather than battling the endless loop of attempted degenerative obliteration. you & i obtain the power to surpass it all. we must trust the unknown. just remember it did in fact bestow us this present which we have both come to so deeply cherish. just remember. dance. you & i are made of a dream. forever we will float. drifting through lands and heart beats. 11:11.

(our drift, found footage digital collage diptych, 2012)

made of you. and my heart beats through precisely. so helplessly. somehow, so right. somehow. somehow. a little bird flew right inside of me. wings entwined within the vines of my chest. swallowed in a thicket of ivy. she's entangled. i'm debilitated. but so perfectly. and i never saw her coming. i never saw her coming and it all happened so suddenly. it was tragic. it was beautiful. and together we have formed a sculpture. and there is a monument inside my chest. and it is it. and my heart will carry you always, little bird who flew right inside of me. i will forever hold you. i am made of you. somehow. somehow...

i will not succumb to the scum which surrounds me. spirals of sirens, delicate in their unwinding i've once ignored, but now refuse. there is too much vacillating. if i were a glass, i'd have shattered long ago from the frequencies clamoring inside me. it's time. if i don't get gone, destruction is weighing. i'll have a lot to prove, in that there's no denying. but i trust in myself that i will prevail. i just need you to trust me, too. and that i need most of all.











































(come with me, digital collage, 2012) & (something, maybe, digital collage, 2012)

perhaps i'm thinking haphazardly. perhaps, but i must. i've always taken things so cautiously. i've paved my path most sacrificially. but it is now that i am ready to throw caution to the wind. soon i'll be leaving. it's enlivening. for once i feel passionate again. for once i feel all will soon be as i have so many times dreamt of. do trust i understand no future is set in stone, but at least i can sculpt the clay. and so i will. and so will she. and so it goes. and so i go.

straight down cataleptic bone mojo sting of violet hunger choking marrow like razor blade lovebirds. soaring perpetually. orgastic formlessness. i shall not die, i shall dissolve. into you. as if in dreams, in self-oblivion, in intoxication, i do. a paradoxical perceptual weightlessness undescribed in cloud-pale veils or sheets, plunging towards nothing. plunging to put out the moon. because i can't. i can't. and i love her. oh, moon. and you. ...you...still pass me. still possess me. how will you ever fade my relentless reveries. and you still pass me. but a vision. of reality. oh, dissipation and despair. blood and the moon and you. developed under the red blub in the darkroom of my body. submerged in my veins, little photographs. endless photographs transforming. reinforcing. negatives, delicate enamel. endless, i sink. consciousness, you strangle me. eyes, they sink. images, they sink. eaten by dreams, as corpses by worms. you were a maggot weaving wildly, waltzing alone. but you carved holes. from which now roots have taken hold. blossoms from the cuts that made you think you owned me. how foolish. how foolish to let light leak in. yearning for buoyancy and obliteration. wreckage of rafts. plum pit chasms in the depths of me. don't chase desire. let it fester. let it fester. let it sink.

entwined eternally
so fast
it was a beautiful blur

i'm always trapped. if it's not my body, it's the land. if it's not the land, it's my lover. if it's not my lover, it's the moon. but it's always something. maybe i'm trapped because of my incessant need to be free. if i do ever obtain it, i'll have nothing else to dream for. so it's always something. the circle haunts me. and it is this circle that is my destiny. the eyes; a circle. the moon; a circle. the compass; a circle. the rhythm; a circle. death; a circle. you; a circle. everything; a circle. everyone; a circle. all; a circle. infinity; a circle. nothing; a circle. always; a circle. always; a circle. always; a circle. circle of circles.

almost. there. almost. there. almost. there. almost. the constant rushed or lingering presence of time. the invariable needing. the skeletal embrace. ghost flesh memory. this feels familiar. i must have dreamed you before many times. i watched your eyes reflected in mine the night we couldn't touch. sharing the same visions. shaking our heads and speaking without uttering a single word. delicate mental thrusts. i, remembering. we knew. it's crystalline now. inevitably, you.

mesmerism of morphing clouds just the right shade of gray. scrying. waiting. attempting to steady my soul in this quiet solitude. it's hard to say how it happened, or why. only time will tell. for the risk has been made.

in my journal, without thinking i began writing. in french, i wrote,
"parce que. je suis fatiguée. parce que. je suis desolee. et rien. rien à rien. mon amour. mon coeur est manquant."

(self. untitled screenshot, 2012.)

gutter. you could take me. my valves feel like scum--(and i bet they look like you on the inside)

in a
land of
constant pianissimo,
you are
a symphony--
the most
brilliant crescendo.
and i
cannot cease
this tremolo
of you
i'm holding
inside me.

black. the black consumes the way black circles. on nothing nothing remembrances. heart. utterly black numb looking. full between. and the full soul vacant of vacant is too beat. secret. nothing and moonwhite between. heart. heart. must beat. beat. black who echos between. must be between. is the of between. i of interior inseparable and so shadows sleep. i sleep. had eyes. crying. us! inseparable and crying. had deserted the eyes. everything. to you and of you. of slipped sleep. the sleep. we knew the way to the interior. shadows of interior i couldn't photograph. crying. you interior. over our game. inseparable shadows hid and so i knew we were a photograph. we hid everything. o, slipped shadows, sleep. sweet waking. in eyes of a sleepy no-life. everywhere. the diminishing head. and dreams. blank. brainwashed. diminishing days, obsolete eyes everywhere. light of directions. death. waking all the stars. like the sleeplessness. dreams. and brainwashed of sleepy disease. worn-out with memories. life everywhere. eyes sticky of memories. tell breath my pointless swallow is invalid. tell breath i want to be a cloud bank.

i feel so unbearably detached. i haven't been able to write as i used to. time vanishes and i become trapped in its loop. my thoughts are erratic and perpetual, though hardly satisfactory. today everything was mucked. the weatherwoman announced our atmospheric region would be reaching the temperature high of 86, but all day my body succumbed to constant states of shivering. the sky was one solid sheet of gray-hued periwinkle emoting indiscernible sensations of empty. vacancies are dangerous terrains. when starring into nothingness, minds are bound to map the most delusory paths. projections of swollen clouds. swollen existences. swollen heart valves. the rhythm of our swollen world. energies clamoring. everything ceasing. abysses. abysses. and never truly knowing what it truly is to know.

sometimes. because sometimes. so sometimes.

i feel suddenly lost wandering amid mucky puddles of introversion. it's the good kind of lost. the psyche misplacement we all once in awhile should traverse through. i cannot yet tell if it 's some faulty neurotransmission due to lazy synapse firing or purely my own eyelids' lack of rest. likely both, and a deathly mix. the following photos are documentation and result of what transpires during this period of mind rewiring. i desperately need to brew some tea.

our tangibility is transient.
our love is eternal.

in 33 minutes i'll be calling her. she will rise from bed, not by the sun, but my voice. she will board a plane and float through the clouds and waking earth towards me. shortly after which i'll navigate the freeways as arteries towards her. in less than 8 hours we will embrace. then she'll sit beside me as so many times imagined, vacantly. and we'll have breakfast and gaze heavily with hearts beating. in less than 24 hours i will reach 21 years of existing here. all of which i haven't really been here. i'm only grounded 11% of the time, the rest i'm in a constant state of dreaming. even when awake. roughly 5 hours or so after gracing this passage, her and i will travel back in time where my family will embrace her for the first time at their quaint coffee shop abode. after which we will take to each other and roam lands full of foliage and love, at the end of the night sleeping beneath a blanket of the brightest stars. the next day we will travel back and keep to ourselves as much as able. cherishing every parcel of the other. every piece of stardust. until she must lastly part. and i'll fall back to dreaming. counting persian moonflowers as i weep.

a man stopped me in my dream. he said, drawn out heavy and shaking, "i've never seen a girl with eyes so blue." foreboding terror reverberated through me as his body froze then shattered abruptly into a pool of golden glitter. immediately, i turned. but was confronted to a world constructed only of mirrors. with my eyes holding in them the unimaginable combined depth of every sea man has come to know. i woke screaming, smashing any reflective surface i could perceive. there was blood everywhere. my heart began to lose sense of its beating. i collapsed to my death. the man entered through my door. he walked forward and began to laugh. this time his eyes were hollow and he began howling in reach for my body. he felt for my face and sliced his fingers on the glass flooded floor. it did not stop him. he grew weak, then in a final stretch plunged his trembling fingers down into my eyes. his hysterics rattled the shards against one another. in a sudden forceful scoop he gouged out my eyes. his hands rose swiftly to place them within his sockets. they suctioned with ease, but he suddenly felt himself drowning. he looked to the world for the first time, and in that same moment had too killed himself from obtaining eyes of such deep sorrow.

through my window waking near-life portal, twisted limbs and lazy wrecked transcriptions of supernova heart consumption. it is a vast and tangled void i have dreamed you through. doomed eyes locked in an astral paralysis of levitating perceptions. only you posses the potion. only you have seen the night as i. only you. only you.



(photograph. view from my window. night. january 18, 2012.)

i am relieved that i do not commence school on the morrow (or today, rather, i suppose) as i was thinking i did. thank you, martin luther king. though i will start classes tuesday. i'll be at school from 8:00am to 7:00pm with no breaks and my last class of the day being some sort of contrived math course which i've never even heard of before enrolling. then on mondays and wednesdays i have one more class, but it begins at 1:00 in the afternoon--thereby leaving me no chance of parking, so i'll be forced to arrive on the lot no later than 9:00am, anyways. maybe i'll start going to the gym to pass the segment of time. i'm so afraid of my schedule. and i'm utterly terrified of block classes starting up again. but all the while my mind is heavily elsewhere. only twenty-five days remain until i am able to see my darling shayda again. this longing has its hold.

a sudden surge of pressure has all at once encapsulated me. i feel as though a vast fire has begun raging within my skull and my eyes are trapped in a state of constant heavy throbs. i need this segment of my life to vanish. fastforward. i need to be transported. or else i need the cosmos to pause so that my pulse is lastly able to catch up to the stars. i've been traveling against the wind for much too long. and the moon knows how hard i've tried to be free.

i've experienced this dream three nights in a row. the most powerful premonition. it has come from a forward time far further within our lives. the simplicity is what makes it so weighty for me. seeing as my visions are typically not entirely the most pleasant of experiences. but in this, everything is lastly as it should be. lastly as we have been so long waiting for. yearning for. all is worth what is to come. i promise you, all is worth what is to come. this i have grown to know and hold.

last year i accomplished my resolution. the initial result stung through my spirit for a while, but i ended freer than ever before. last night i had not thought much about conjuring up one at the clock's strike of twelve, seeing as i already felt so fulfilled--that is until a new acquaintance ignited a potential prospering. it would be an internally troubling voyage, but one i've been needing to board for quite some time now. recently vast opportunities have been floating my way, and as they do, i find my own soul beginning to drift. i fear too much. i criticize myself brutally. i hardly take chances. and it has hindered my aura from obtaining its true luminescence. today my tarot reading reinforced and encouraged such an awakening. so, this is where i begin. juste comme ça.

i've never not been able to write about something. though, this, by far, has been the most trying. i've been avoiding writing, reminiscing, dreaming. reality is reigning. her smell lingers. clutching the luggage i've hesitated to unpack. the entire trip seemed to be a film of unsurpassed beauty. and i sincerely wish it had been recorded because the reels of my memory are constantly withering. it was two and a half years of unknowing. it's been one week since parting. 62 days left until reuniting. i miss her. i miss everything.

i remember waking in the morning, rushing to ready. blood attempting to navigate its way within the endless anxiety. i put on a scarf and hurriedly shoved my belongings in the back of a rusty green camero. he passed me the keys, said, "you're driving, kiddo." i adjusted the seat, and we went on our way. the highway was nearly vacant. feeling free as my father handed me slices of grapefruit as pink as the sky in midst of its very own metamorphosis. seeing the airport against the hazy horizon. parking. removing my bags and entering the shuttle full of travelers. we were off. gate C. security check-point. pass. seated. waiting. too nervous for coffee. pen. teddy bear. stand-by clear. window seat. boarding. thumbs trembling the text. see you soon. lift-off. clouds. maps. irrigation. mountains. empty land. little houses. colored roofs. gray skies. turbulence. circular rainbows. shadow. runway. land. phone. four texts. she's on her way. heart pounding. not ready. exit. gate 10. walk. "metro/baggage claim." restroom. mirror. breaths. walk back. illuminated map. call. calm. fright. fancy restaurant. christmas tree. don't see it. walk. stop. turn around. still in security. walk. exit. donut shop. christmas tree. can't do it. she saw me. can't see her. fear. christmas tree. waiting. hiding. where are you? can't do it. calm. descriptions of people passing. father, blue raincoat, son, holding hands. woman, heavy set, brown bags. deep breath. walking. scanning. her energy. spotted. curled inside a silver phone booth. slow motion. walking. her aura. her eyes. her voice. hide. window. reflections. staring. speaking. surreal. not happening. knee touch. hands. embrace. never letting go.

(note: this post will be quite lengthy by the time i'm finished writing about the trip. it took me this long. and for now i must stop here, adding occasionally. i can only do this for so long without too much longing taking hold)

brave women. fumes of poetry. they are not entities, but drugs. dreams. struggling to engulf each other. everything they touch morphs to myth. a blunder of psychic blindness. tender muted telepathy. whisper to me your hidden lust. it is now. it is now. it is how. it is now. my lover. my flower. my mystic poet of desire. i no longer hide you. i no longer hide anything at all. this is not an awakening. this is a slumber of transgressed depth. eternal distortion. eternal daze. eternal embrace. brave women. brave women. my lover. my dream. luminous and warm. gentle. tattered. holy. beat.

insomnia is no good for dreamers...

sweet serendipitous soul, she.

half-life nuclear waste unseen particle beams probe long standing questions. big experiments happening. sociological sees the shift. says, "they would've been fine." hospital stays, heart-failure, electric shocks. her mind going to egypt. within minutes plunging straight into birds. revolution erupt. people tell their stories and report blurry photos in mid-february. but she was planning to return privately. insured to die frequently. opal spirit dew shine violet heart silver spray luna flowing dirt spirit.

funny how alternate fates morph so rapidly. instead of pursing that new blossom, i returned to prune the beautiful bloom that i foolishly left wilting. this past year or so i have been so selfish, and that is most unlike me. in truth i knew her and i would end up together again, always. my intuition does not fail me in that particular predicament. but my mind was too preoccupied. with school. with producing my art. with work. with money. with writing. with time. with wondering if i should test these other luring auras which taunted after me. i was just so young, i am still so young (well, i do not feel mentally/soulfully young, but at least in the scientific sense of the word it is so). but i should've never used my psyche to twist my heart. the thought of eternal terrifies and warms me all at once. but i'm finally ready to cherish her more closely than ever before. sweet darling ethereal beauty. i am sorry for ever parting.

it is seldom that i take chances such as that. in fact, i'm unsure if up until this point i ever have. it’s strange. i’m still attempting to decipher the blossom. i told her i needed to sleep, which is half-truth, but really i wanted to make sure i was not already experiencing in disorient spells of slumber. and though now freshly rested, i’m weary as to where i shall embark from here. i cannot stand that it’s been over a year and still sensations of guilt envelope me if i even come to obtain the slightest feelings for another. but i cannot let it hold me any longer. i simply cannot.

entrapped in an experience of outer surfaces, with efforts to probe deeper yielding only to more as murky as the first. at times, such exasperating exertions to locate meaning beneath these shrouds of ensnarement can in turn evoke a psychological disembodiment wherein physical and mental planes become mixed and morphed together. usually, when a blank space occurs, it is rapidly invaded with a reaction of some sort. and, it seems, this particular vacant abyss has begun to anthropomorphize a consciousness of continuous pulling in and out. i do not think any of this is making even the slightest amount of coherent sense. i feel almost as if existing in a semi-lucid surrealist state of somnambulism. and cannot reawaken. visions are slipping out. i must shut my eyes. that's the only way. ever the only way... goodnight, xo.

i forgot to wish for her.

dream.
november 11, 2011.

i only ever fall for those who are unattainable. all desires yearn for that which is intangible. though i always descend, even while knowing. i do not know if i would say it is a helpless act. in fact, i'm sure it is not. i do this because i fear the transpiration of actuality. to say, i fear the loss of my dreaming. i've acknowledged my mania for control. my mother read this in my palm when i was a child, whereby i severely discounted such an accusation. the trait was not yet present in my psyche's recognition, and the foreseen coming had always haunted me. i'm unsure as to why. but at that point i did not understand this word, wholly. i presume i connoted it with abuse--which is an aspect far from my capability. though, now, i translate it properly. it is not an external control, but rather rooted deeply internal. and has intrinsically been the vital component of my entire existence. i will always be a feral entity when entering to this world's collective conception of reality. and for this, i will always descend, even while knowing. because of knowing.

last winter, sometimes, i would sit outside the doors to a recital hall and muse, heavily. strings hardly touched synchronicity seeing as the orchestras were merely practicing. today i was thinking of you and presume i must’ve wandered there mindlessly--whatever the case, the decision was certainly not one of a conscious undertaking. i stayed there anyways, but this time all was silent. for some reason i did not sense the towering emptiness--only the unknown aura which keeps lurking after me. i feel it everywhere. but it can't be you. you’re gone. and for you, i no longer enter. which i cannot comprehend because i've been left cursed unable to rid mounting insufferable visions. transfixed, interminably. what is the dreamer, but a tragedy?

this post possesses more solidity for my personal reminiscing here.

i can transcend now. today bequeathed perhaps the most surreal moment of my existence. here are couple cell phone photos that i snuck through the confines of my blazer without looking. so the composition is absolutely abysmal, but i'm very glad to have them. felt like such a rebel snapping these.



































michals, mapplethorpe, and mann were positioned alongside each other. my heart underwent so many convulsions, i think my soul may have touched enlightenment.

i also saw my favorite photo of frida kahlo taken by manuel alvarez bravo, a brasai, a dali, a kruger, a sherman, a stieglitz, a talbot, a warhol, among some notable others.
i am eternally grateful to my professor for setting up this experience which is still seemingly unreal...

i do not know if we had a destiny. we began walking slowly down a street paved of polished obsidian, scrying delicately, subtly. slipping. night dropped, i felt the moon and turned my bones back. without consciousness, i grabbed your hand in two of mine. we fled fast and far until the moon was unobscured by city constructions. meshing our feet again to the obsidian, you began weeping small crystals. i begged you to look to the giant illuminated milky orb above us. scarlet clouds kissed its edges then shattered at just the precise moment. your eyes lifted. i let go.

dream.
october 28, 2011.

lure has slithered before me as a majestic snake awaiting to be charmed. how tempted i am to chant. though my lungs are vacant and my voice-box has locked. the serpent coiled my throat. i must've been tranced through the hypnotic undulation. i cannot discern what is transpiring. my temples are rapidly infused with heavy throbs. my eyes have slipped to tunneled visions draped in opalescent white. you emerge in the distance, silhouetted, swathed black velvet tattered cosmos embodiment. emitting halos which sprout slowly, faintly from you forming like moon-bleached moss tendrils. shy auras, i long to touch. perpetual drift.

there will always be that little part of you.

all my trials, soon be over.

there are moments,
(undisclosed), when
the strangest
surge will well
within me,
if only--
to say it,
simply--(i
cannot). you
are an entire
catacomb clutching
my chest.

when the moment comes wherein you feel the stillness of the known
and you realize that same stillness exists too within your heart--
how, then, do you ever wake from dreaming?

it's getting old. i have the most immense desire to part. for seclusion. to be a working artist, on my own. outside of stale poorly lit classrooms in which i'm not gaining anything but debt. outside of this land clutching my ankles, draining my dreams. nothing vexes me more than exuding such exorbitant amounts of energy into my artistic concepts and executions just so that another may "be inspired" and confiscate them as their own. imitation is never the finest fucking form of flattery. this is deteriorating. my spirit has neared exhaustion. i must leave soon. a new aura is beckoning, and it cost $309 for a one-way train ticket to new york.

there are things left unsaid which will always remind me;
your essence lies lurking among my most precious phantoms.

i've fallen into such delirium. engulfed within an abyss discombobulated. unable to balance. unable to steady. expectation is the worst of all fates, but the most entrancing of my dreams.

so much remains.

your embrace was

the entire universe

within me

holding its breath

i only know what remains--which is, we share the same unknown.

a few nights ago i had an overwhelming urge to conduct some spirit writing and have since been haunted by this message which emerged eerily within the first lines of winding ink:

"you are good & light & when free love her"

i've been relentlessly bombarded with assignments, work, events to attend, et cetera, and have not been able to write or touch my existence much lately. my battery ran down on my camera while doing a project and i'm waiting for it to recharge--being the only reason that i am even able to write in this moment. everything is happening at such a rapid pace that all seems transitory. i mean, all is transitory and i'm mesmerized by the beauty which that encompasses, but at times it's terribly infuriating because there is so much investment. and now i'm not even able to witness the decay. it's pure evaporation. absolute ephemerality. black holes.

she is the sea,
and i am vanishing.

i can't remember

what it was

how it happened

or when we

became such empty

mounds of magic--

only i know

her voice was
shaking. meaning: either
she despises me
or retains desires,
secretly. no matter,
we are strangers
now. (because that

is what she
wanted) and there

is nothing left.

it started so simply. only, now exists complete restlessness. the cursed enigma. the cyclical ephemeral. sleepy, sleepy cyclone. twisted internal. lay me down, my supernatural. bestow your beloved surrender. sweet, sweet dreams wait whispering.

"What is this universe
but a lot of waves
And a craving desire
is a wave
Belonging to a wave
in a world of waves
So why put any down,
wave?
Come on wave, WAVE!
The heehaw’s dobbin
spring hoho
Is a sad lonely yurk
for your love
wave lover."

--jack kerouac

ceci n'est pas un rêve.

i'm being dishonest. this spiral is eternal. an exasperating unsynchronized drift. and no matter how far i diverge, it's as though something stronger perpetually compels me to return.

a new madness has has consumed all coherency. mania. a fixation overpoweringly more solid than any other i've found myself traverssing within--which frightens me greatly. this has transpired previously under spells of an eerily similar luring--though so suddenly now i’m being pulled with an even greater intensity. there are these currents of seeming electricity swelling and sending countless vibrations, caressing each vein. i am awake, though existing as if in dream. an unprompted ecstasy has encompassed me once again. complete euphoric transcendence. whenever we cross paths, even when envisioned by means of unconscious serendipity, i cannot express what occurs other than an absolute pureness. a radiance. a known. a mesmeric magnetism, unsurpassed.

inexplicably infatuated. a note for my own records of reminiscing--if love at first sight truly exists, it occurred on this day. smitten and genuinely lovesick. this is going to be no good...

forever you knew.

this is it. this is the embrace we've been so tirelessly yearning for. energies entwined within eternal. there is a an untouched stillness, a serenity, now meshing amidst refreshed vibrations and sherbet clouds. the most supreme fusion. i sense the matching rhythms. the visions. we’ve been composing such delicate crescendos. for once, all feels whole--you, across from me with yesterday’s cold pizza and the sun setting on your sleepy forehead.

eyes glazed, longing to be stardust. dark matter. i used to caress the night--now i lay strangled by it. asphyxiated. why did i descend? what in you compelled me?
i'm only haunted because nothing will ever be unveiled.

i collapsed last night into dream without warning. but woke gently--just floated back through consciousness, still shut and stagnant, imposing a fading afterimage in the ever black pools. i pressed my ring finger into a crevice of stitching and slowly drew it up to my brow, tracing continuous unhurried circles around eyelids. eventually i rose, appearing before two large mirrors obstructed with melting morning light where i assessed my form and last night's unwashed makeup, lips stained and smudged eyes. i sat stoic, seemingly in a mind of no mind. but then suddenly it was as though all at once i was wedged in a sort of paradox, peering amid feelings of freshness and filth wherein i frenziedly grappled for grime's secreted immaculacy.

"the frightening experience i am traversing now is this: with her i am acting out scenes which prove, in the end, the strength and vividness of my memories and fantasies superimposed over reality. it is such a subtle, elusive happening, that i cannot describe it. it is as if i see and hear you clearly for a while and then become drunk, confused, drugged. and all the time a part of me is aware of the distortions. it is frightening because it causes self-doubt, a doubt of what i have always believed in: my intuition."

--anaïs nin (spring, 1957)

juste arrêtez
juste arrêtez
juste arrêtez
juste arrêtez
juste arrêtez
juste arrêtez

a luminous instant submerged within ritualistic sensations of dissonance. fields of fallen blackbirds. broken smokey crystal eyes. rainbow refraction. slippery lucidity. returning ambiguity. so gone. so gone. so gone. take me.

darling, i surrender.

muses, eternal--
my mapplethorpe is saccharine.

everything is falling into place. finally. merely within the tiny course of a day, it's consumed me with such vigor. so many new prospects are simmering and i just feel this inexplicably overwhelming sensation of sureness unlike any i've ever felt before. might as well be gazing to the moon...

what to do when you don't have access to a mountain, but feel as though you will spontaneously combust if you cannot freely and vociferously expel your rage:

1. go to your bed

2. grab a pillow from your bed

3. immerse your head within said pillow

4. scream until your lungs fall feeble

5. faint

6. astral project

7. do not return

in some strange way, it was the truest thing i had ever known.

it slid down my forearm and soaked into the blue carpet beneath me. my hands were trembling and i spilt the water. the semi-circle of surrounding souls all sucked in their breaths. i only bit my lip and proclaimed, “just water.” one looked inquisitive. sort of bowed his head in and curiously wondered in a whisper if i was nervous. wherein i retreated and informed that it was merely a normal consequence of my constant quiver. he grew aggressive and preached, peering with daggers. proclaimed he knew why i was always shaking. and i started to laugh, but he morphed his fingers into a claw and reached for his core, “it’s that burning desire!” gaze and passion gaining potency, he continued, “it’s deep within you trying to break free!” my eyes instantly sunk to the small freshly absorbed puddles now growing cold against my foot. “you must let it out,” he warned. and i shifted my head as if to nod, but my spine locked and my heart began to convulse.

it's all drifting so rapidly.

how simple it is to exist within an illusion. lashes locked under cloths stitched of spells. i hardly release them any longer. with hopes reveries will be forced to crystallize. solidify. sometimes i sense how heavy hers have grown. back turned towards the curtains, in tireless attempts to ignore the night's symphony of sighing stars. if only to see them once more, i'd curse mine open. though for now i retain the dream.

i need you, i don't need you,
and all of that jivin' around

endless loop...

all the parasitic daydreams which have mercilessly grown to dominate my psyche are so beyond ready to transpire.

her.
this.

because that's just how it goes. the important things come back. essence remains. and escape is always a temporary business.

i don't know
where we were
traveling, but she
asked me if
i loved her.
and i don't
think it was
a nightmare, but
my lungs were
empty and my
mouth didn't move.