Ragas In Minor Scale by Ravi Shankar & Philip Glass on Grooveshark last night, we spoke of ragas (and how they find their way to the end) we spoke of not being right (and the right to just be) we spoke of care and not judging the lost ones (and i trusted you a little…
Glittery pink and white targets.
hiding a stuffed animal for your cat to find in the night to present the kill the next day melting into the soft sweetness of midnight phone calls and intimacy in separate beds naked boy running through morning stillness disturbed by the smell of flowers the itch the need to taste blood to destroy something…
I suppose if my Dad loved me– if he showed he cared, I would have believed I was lovable. But he didn’t and I didn’t. And I tried to fill up that hole– spackle spackle pound pound hammer hammer. But it didn’t work. So today, I’m trying to find ways to love myself. I’m starting…
the fire was spun like caramelized sugar with a smirk (and the hissing) my tongue, wet and hungry reached out to closed spaces (closing spaces) the balloons soaring above the firelight taking a piece of me into the embers below (with a hiss) it darkened and everything went cold the fire remains but doesn’t warm…
I drew the Death card from The Mythic Tarot two days in a row. I’m paying attention to that. I’m writing a show right now. It’s a big undertaking to open to a story wanting to be told through you. It’s one thing to perform someone else’s work or just to write something and close…