it shudders and gives up one last beat (she said)

you don't understand what i said

(and the dog runs up with a heart in its mouth)

i said

(deposited pulsing at my feet)

no, no, no,

(blood still ushering from its valves)

you're wrong

despondence dance

it's more of a shudder.
an inside shudder.

and i am doing it all wrong
and i have screwed it all up royally, of course.
because that is how my feelings lean
with the string tighteningtightening higher

and i cannot be fucked
dragging my feet in the gutter
drooping shoulders and overcast eyes.
you look nothing like you once did.

you see nothing like you once did.

you believe nothing like you once did.

you love nothing like you once did.

you care for nothing like you once did.

you hate nothing like you once did.

you are nothing like you once did.

and yr bird is green

but you can't see me, you can't see me


this is supposed to be the comfort zone. i am supposed to be able to come home to support. i get the opposite. i am whinging, i know. it's not as bad as you say it is justine, it's not their fault justine, that's just the thing. i get home and it's my fault. instantly. and you say things have changed. and your bird can sing.

and you're lying.


oh, and i am getting sick and frustrated and... no, not getting. gotten. it has been here for a while now, festering away. but suddenly it's in the back of my throat and it comes on like a slow storm. i hear the voices i feel no love from them. they do not reach out to me.
this is the price you pay for tuning in (fortuning in).


tune out
(but you don't hear me
you don't hear me)

do you ever

i do

ok, so here comes the jealousy. all tingly and sticky. in the stomach, up the spine, behind the jaw.

it's me.
it's not the fact that you wanted to put 'everything you had' into it, and you couldn't at that point in time.
it's me.
not skinny enough. don't show enough leg. don't have nice flowy hair. too many stretch marks. stretch marks full stop. short nails. double chin. calloused feet. breasts too big. breasts not perky enough. chubby arms. don't always smell nice. not enough wit. not good enough in general.

it's like, once you got to know me, i wasn't as interesting or beautiful as you thought i was.

shame, hey?


ok, jealousy has passed.
i've moved on. fare thee well.


(feel like you've broken someone's heart)

prayer to the moon

i pray,
dear goddess that is the moon.

may i grow tall
strong
joyful
free

while your light does embrace me.

i pray,
dear goddess that is the moon.

may you protect me
and light my path
may you reflect in me
and i, reflect in you,

O goddess that is the moon.

(O Divine mother, our hearts are filled with darkness.
Please make this darkness distant from us and allow illumination within us.)

धन्यवाद

unsettled

while the world was busy waking i slept in through yr epilogue of dreaming

my stomach is unsettled. i caught the bus up, and wrote a poem on the way:




my arms feel so heavy
i am forcing myself to
cry.
maybe the world could stop
spinning for just a few
minutes so i can stand
back up?

not likely.

sad fat girl sitting on the back of the bus
too detached to shed a tear
and the world is too big
and it is drowning me
your arms comforted me
maybe one day i can just
stay there
i would drag
my arms up and around you
if it meant i could stay
there

my eye is twitching
finally it is wet

i just wanted to
be in your body
to float inside you
or just to find you
somewhere waiting

but my cheeks are flushed with
fever
to tell me you could love me, I
break you apart and put
you back together
you do not fit

but i do

shivering, I think I'm

sick

my shadow
moves before i do
I sit, hardly breathing
my shadow hits the bitumen
splits and scatters behind me

my shadow pushes in the
pins, tingling fingertips

my shadow opens up my
chest with his bare hands
and cups my ribcage
tenderly
I am cemented to the
spot. I am spinning at
the speed of sound. I am
not human.

the sickness rises.

the memory perspires

my shadow smothers my mouth my
nose and stands my
hair on stilts
the separate strands teeter
precariously

you swing in my mind
and i die vicariously

my shadow speaks to me
in tongues
i can not move

i can not lift my

arms

my shadow lifts my

stomach

and it splits
and it scatters
behind me
it is gone








that pretty much sums up how i feel tonight. i think it's something to do with the moon. i feel wierd.

is a place at the bottom of the well

in order to love graham
you must love the beez

in order to treat graham the way she deserves
you must treat the beez the way she deserves

in order to be balanced and caring, the beez
you must appreciate graham.

but you also must appreciate the beez.

i love graham and i love the beez.

i'm only sleeping

stay in bed
float upstream...

i am well and truly worn out. listening to the cure live in paris. my body aches, my brain is scrambled. i am really looking forward to bed.
but i realize that my world is coming together. slowly but surely. i am sensing the world around me eagerly, soaking it all in and breathing it out constantly. i met many beautiful people last night and got to know so many people properly that i wanted to know before but never got the chance. we were on another planet (Planet Xanadu) and we were communicating with our antennae, tuning in to each other like radio stations.
we are spectacular post-modernists.
i slept through the day.
we have officially warped the time-space-continuum.
(officially, of course, referring to the law of Planet Xanadu)




it's the place to be kids.
it's gonna go down in history.


and on that note:

goodnight. (i think. who knows what time has decided is now.)

justine

rain is a perfectly sculpted garden of wetness

today i was inspired. utterly inspired, for the first time in so long. and even though i didn't really do that much, my eyes were open and my heart was too. finally.
i was listening to neutral milk hotel on the bus on my way to uni, sunglasses on. the tint on my sunnies are a kind of dark yellow, and they make all the greens seem amazingly green and all the blue seem kinda green too, actually. it's similar to late afternoon light, that point in the day when i feel like the spectrum is overflowing and bright. but this was different, more... dark? no. kinda... rustic? no. it felt like i was in a 70's video clip or something. maybe early 90's would be more appropriate. and the fuzz and hum of nmh in my ears combined with the most vibrant and deep green of the trees made my spirit hungry for everything that this universe has to offer. i devoured it all, from behind a bus window. i soaked in the colours and the sounds and the emotions of everything around me. a woman was crying as she got off at oats street, her sunnies were lightly tinted and her lips were made up. she walked strangely and her mullet-sporting man-friend didn't seem too comforting. for some reason i felt a loss. to be honest, my instinctual conclusion was that she had just had an abortion... i'm not sure if that was the case but it seemed like it. i wanted to look her in the eyes, i didn't want to say anything or do anything but that. so that i could show her that somebody in this world had compassion for her, even if they had never met and probably never would again after that moment.
but i didn't take off my sunglasses, i just sat there and soaked in her sadness. even when she was well out of sight i still felt her sadness lingering.

i think i am tuning my receptors, slowly but surely. i am picking up on other people, on new ideas, on new frequencies completely. some that i never even knew were there.
hopefully i can maintain this feeling for long enough to do all the things i want to do, at least for the time being.

no, i must go to bed. trial for a job tomorrow. new frequencies.