CIRCLES

How ugly will I become?

How beautiful was I?

How good should I be?

How bad have I been?

we are waves

I have to take a deep breath, dragging oxygen to the very pit of my body. As a wreck of nerves and with my body bruised I heave myself up the stairs and take my seat at the front of the bus. Sitting alone in front of the windscreen I can see so much pass by. The depth of field stretches far, holding secrets in the distance and telling stories of other lives. I want to expand so much that the integrity of my being collapses and I am part of the air.

Another long, deep breath.

I slump my head against the glass and watch kids run into the road, buses storm past men who a few seconds previously had attempted to step foot out in front of them. I think...ants. I think of futility. My eyes don't come to focus on any one thing but more observe everything in range. I am totally aware of time passing, every second and thought. I ebb back into myself as I exhale, as though there's no life in me without the air. The city is far and grey and stretches out into the sky and space and forever and I'm inside of a machine that wants to keep me on the dirty Earth.

The sun falls out from behind a cloud...I close my eyes to pretend I'm not there and people can't see me. I am white light and I am warm. I think of space and the future, I feel a sort of happy sad. The comfort and fear of the universe all at once.

One day there will be nothing at all, so sleep easy.

O

x

I am more inclined to believe in God than monogamy.

Gloomy Sunday as sung by Billie Holiday minus 'dreaming'

Better words than I could say;

Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach
Of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thoughts
Of ever returning you
Wouldn't they be angry
If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy sunday
Gloomy is sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul
I'll be blessing you

Bleaker Days and so forth

Winter is whispering to me like a buried lover...dig at mud until I reach rock bottom and suddenly smack onto veneered wood. A mirror with no reflection, frostbitten fingers and white cheeks.

He's close but further than my grasp, in spite of his body being under mine.

The dark and deadlier days lay just ahead, and they are welcome.

One day I will be the snow on your nose and not the ice in your heart.

All the atoms as one...unite. Untie.

The next war will be on celebrity.