08 February 2003 - 4:06 pm
kitchen knife.

last night russia visited me in the form of vodka. shortly thereafter corey had left with said gift, i giggled and passed out on the floor. i woke up to jason and anthony returning, and was summarily (in a very drugged fashion) off to bed.

i did not go to class and was late to work and i do not care

psychosis in the eyes of cats glimmering over fences late at night grubby alleyways and old fisherfolk leaning against streetlights slickered and menacing trash overturned and the silence (palpable palpitations of the sky) in the fraught faults of the earth gaping underneath your feet.

o undertow

blue and black swimmed out too far. red and yellow joining him smiling.

//

i had a dream this afternoon while collapsed in an uncomfortable position on the boxoffice desk, sleeping the day away. i dreamt i was dying. and mark was there. concerned. and a sepulchre by the sea opened up. i slid into it. was in my room and the door was unlocking and it was anthony with a key rather than jason and the window exploded.

i woke up to the sound of things breaking. of course, only in my head. shifting motions and cramped dull eyes barely registering the fact that the light is on or that tara has returned to the boxoffice and is suddenly sitting on the arm of the chair where i am, and right now i've returned for a little hour break, sitting here slouched from the waist up, shoulders slumped and arms curiously pinned to my sides.

i heard mea on a cell-phone outside the boxoffice saying (jokingly) to her friend on the phone about the poetry slam tomorrow (which i'm thinking about ... ) - "it's mostly dykes who write poetry, anyway"

at which point i lifted my head and shouted "THAT'S A LIE"

to which : "joke, joke, joke!"

and i said "mumbleokay" and fell back to sleepve.

skeel. i am keeling over slowly. on the brink of going gone. if something happens i think i might fall. over. is this bad? it's sort of a slow acceptance. of a definite downward spiral.

i've started cutting again.

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