February 2012
9 posts
Before: Believing the pain was only for me, needing it, not confiding or healing - no soaking wounds in salt water; but deepening the gaps. Sucking the glow from days. “I broke my heart, you merely broke my life.”
After: Learning how to forget (and allowing myself to) with fresh clearings in hearts for new buds to peak through. Forgetting exact locations of moles, sometimes whole...
Mother’s advice: Listen to your heart.
lavenderbones:
Feeling very small today. If anyone knows where to find some courage, please let me know.
And could they possibly find some for me too.
Things are worsening. The lake is freezing over and I’m shivering, pressing my face against the thickening ice.
Staying up until 6AM worrying about things that cannot be changed: the melting ice-caps, swollen toes and unattainable goals; using the wrong pen to write letters - the one that leaves a trace of ink three pages later, but in a different colour. Abandoning my almost-not-quite...
I need a thimble for a heart at a time like this.
January 2012
11 posts
I was tired. Tired from staying up all night watching your face turn and twist in the sheets, the cotton that clung and covered the skin on your ruined wrists. Far away, through the snow, you echoed from the soil and old bedroom walls, as my chest opened up to inhale you like it never would. now you, a breathless ghoul, pass each cream rib, tearing and ripping at my punctured drum.
Forgive my absence. I am indecisive at the moment, floating through the days as they roll into weeks. I can sense it; in the way I speak, I dress - I am not here. I am with you at the ballet, heart on the floor, shivering profusely under two coats. Or holding hands in Battersea park, picking flowers and carving our names into oak.
“The city will wait, my dear, but will you?”
sophanna asked: Happy birthday Kristy!
Sometimes all you need is the comfort of a mother, to tell you that above all else, she will continue to love you. Even when all the earth’s weight is resting on your shoulders and your bones are starting to creak; she will be there, to take you in her arms, silence your cries and stroke your hair until your eyelids droop.
Ghouls creep through mortar and outstretch their arms, offering snowy stares, to vanquish my wish: to know the shape of your shins and brow. They make me lose me mind. Collapse in strange rhythms on her kitchen floor with cramped palpitations, complaining of the quakes and how quickly the feelings bloom in my chest. Then I realise, every one pines to feel what I fear.
December 2011
11 posts
Look at you, all stardust and curls. The dreadful words escape your mouth and kiss my seaside limbs. My heart shivers as your fingers scratch and our downy feathers touch. Then look at me, a deep tangle of thorns, haunting you ever since.
“If a violin string could ache, I would be that string.”
– Vladimir Nabokov
Insomnia plagues and everyone’s an enemy, my chest sinks, and out come the claws. I’m no longer that girl, you can take me home, to writhe in a bed of all our clothes. Draw the curtains and undress my bones, with your perfect teeth, and melancholy drones. It’s my papering heart, and out-of-sync dreams, I fell in love, with a libertine.
I want to separate myself from everything. I feel calcified. I need time to filter the water that surrounds my grains, to find myself in the waves of everyone. I shall leave myself to dry in the sun, then wait and wait and wait, before I emerge, clinging to the bowl in brand new patterns. Crystallised, raw and real.
“I always thought I’d tell you when I was beautiful enough, but I’ll never be beautiful enough. Oh how unfair it is that you exist. You completely tip the snow globe.”
November 2011
11 posts
Sat with J.
You said my eyes are still the same hue and the lines in our faces eternally match. You said you’d aged, but your reflection always looks the same to me.
Feeling wonderfully somber this morning, a peaceful shade of gloom. Sometimes all I need is a day off - to ignore the world, draw the curtains, and watch QI.
Last night I went home and had a falling apart. A big falling apart - as though the ice snapped. I kept thinking about the orbits between people, their own stars and moon, and I felt dreadfully alone. The hollow darkness left an incurable ache and I could not thread any feeling back through the burst vessels. I shut my eyes, too sore for sight, and thought the fog might finally suffocate me.
Bon Iver this evening. Moon-struck. They were so incomprehensibly perfect, and Vernon, he was out of the stratosphere. I almost had heart failure. He just stood on stage and bled. I wanted to stop time for always and live in the ghostly howls of his voice.
I felt everything so acutely: The shadowed sadness in each lip as it formed his frail words, how the cries echoed through me and ricochet on...
October 2011
17 posts
Rain falling as excelled brains
On to skeletal lands
Omitting peachy-lipped grains
That burst and brand
Like each true rib
Browned
From knocks and breaks
Returned to dust
04:36AM: Home alone. Someone is throwing stones at my window. Do not wish to see anyone. Sinking into the warmth of my bed until they give up the ghost.
07:19AM: Case of the mystery stone thrower solved. Drunken J. “I missed you… so I thought I’d wake you up.”
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
– Ernest Hemingway
The flowers would bloom only for her - your girl. A web of nails and lashes and skin. With her body in the bushes, drowned in cherry ink, awaiting the leaves and sticks to cover her ears’ pink. Sticky fingers, empty chest, bloody thorns decorating her wrists. A kiss of dull wood, remembered by her thighs, and a branch to love the neck. Rotting core, knitted bones, holes the shape of teeth....