i.  parts of my life are slowly blurring out of focus and i’m only left with the vision of an impaled heart on a fishhook. i want to quickly grow up, and yet i don’t. i dream of long train rides accompanied by good music and books, and dream of meeting the person who will morph to be the other half of my body. i store a jar of empty promises in my room and they are getting fuller as i meet more people. the irony is present.

ii.  i’m sick of seeing art forms caressing glittery pretty words that hide the harsh world. i want to see more paintings of crying women, more baring of the inner souls, more bared ankles and twisted bones. i know the secrets you think you hide behind your tight jaws and everything boils down to nothing when atoms collapse upon each other and eyelashes are trimmed. there is something romantic behind skin on skin contact and fluttering eyelashes and i will stop at nothing to capture them in black & white.

iii.  lessons on how to escape your body are filled with applications and i wonder where they want to escape to. bruised knees are tangled to the rhythm of church music as the professor reads page after page of rotting letters to a room full of skeletons. clear your throat and cobwebs in your heart, for spring is headed here and warm bread will soon take the place of cold carcasses & wilted flowers.

i shift in my grave.