I want to howl, howl, howl but not like Ginsberg becausethere is no sense of holy impurity in my voice box andI only speak for myself and for Lear facing the men of stoneor maybe it’s him who speaks ...
you can look over my shoulder if you want tomaybe you can’t tell butthis is a formal letter of adieu-et-cetera and it’s for youtake note of the stationary it took me so long to pick it says genuinely...
I cant tell how I am, but let me deduce:I dont have any thoughts anymore.: I have nothing to sayI havent cried since August.: I have nothing to feel
(not only next but all Decembers, infinite Decembers)
Everythings melted into an ocean of superglue, Christmas crackers and cigarettes and public transport and dinners and what-do-I-do-with-my-hands. Stuck, stuck, stuck. This is today: youre a sarcophag...
breathing
scrapsNot long ago I vowed not to think it anymore and I’m sorry, I never meant to put this promise out on the street (I know it’s cold), but I still just don’t know anymore, I don’t know what to do,...
I dont want to have Ludwig II Syndrome anymore, "an eternal enigma to myself and others". It all comes from, I dont know, constantly writing about dead people, maybe, and missing someone...
Dont know what it is with my strange obsession with bookshop neurosis, worries me quite a bit. Circular thoughts about the shelves as my safe haven and maybe thats really the only place I can have my...
"I stand by my initial statement, youre water in my windpipe."
Took myself for coffee today but went home before I could re-enact my meltdown behind the shelves at Waterstones last month. Once is too often for crying in bookshops. I know you’re supposed to want ...
Can’t sleep, might as well write.Back into the maelstrom again. Lost the ‘C’ on my keyboard. If this all were a novel, it would stand for something. An omen, the Grim in my teacup. Calculated 77 more...
Want to write volumes so that I wont forget (pirouetting on cobblestone, stargazing through clouds, book discussions on midnight trains).
(lets stop pretending to be castles)
you in the salty wind in the rain in your cricket whites plastered to your body shimmering glowing tiring medripping from your chin your lashes washing ink awayyour words raised against my whispering...
the last one speaking in whispers that rasped our throats like the texture of the cardigan you had taken off we agreed it was me and that you could have left (taking your shoes and that cardigan and ...
You ruined Goethe for me, reciting Faust again and again, rubbing your temples. And you planted flowers in my own personal ruins, wrote down your favourite equations for me (in your horrible crooked ...
L. picked elder blossoms for me and made them into syrup:"We went home with lips stained red and white petals stuck to our arms."On seeing a shooting star:"It was only glitter from your e...
"I want to speak to you all the time." - chair crumbles underneath you, left sitting on a pile of rubble.And then whats left collapses when someone dependable does something microscopic and t...
I was convinced things could be different, and maybe for a while they were, in a parallel universe that was really only the wind making seashell noise in your ears. But of course the performance of t...
The loneliest feeling on Earth is having no-one to button up the back of your dress.That, and sewing your own name-tags into your shirts.
Absolutely, infinitely out of ideas, all I remember how to do is shrug. What do you do when? What do you do? Ive become a bit of a vagabond, hairbrushless, ringing my own doorbell in the mornings. We...
nightlyglowing pale blue on the balconyus ghosts in nightgowns steaming like hot drinks in porcelain cupscupping smoke in our handsdrowning would have been lovelywe sigh and pick twigs from our hairb...
trying very hard to drown Teddy
All everything does to me is leave me with my feet dangling, not knowing what to do: somewhere in translation whole chapters disappeared, blown over rooftops for the lack of a paperweight and then -T...
Crumpled, crumbling. Minds are sieves - must find way to preserve thoughts. Drown them in fog, stab them with pins. "Please dont forget." - but I will; greatest tragedy of all. Now to bed wit...
Braiding ribbon and thread and secrets into my hair: afraid vertebrae will snap from the weight of my plait.
Isolated by snow: muffles sound, stops trains, numbs extremities, provides a safe habitat for all things pale.
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