catharsism

Holding my afraid, and holding it tight.

I am a mess that carries my mess in a way that seems to pass as mess-less.

I woke up with white sheets.
My dreams swam in bleach
and my eyes is where the river
pushed on/ pounded/ settled in…
I’m not sure where I’m going with this.
I’m trying to say I’ve started again.
My cycle started too.

I wonder if this coincidence wants to be a coincidence?
I feel like if I were a coincidence (which I may be) I would want to be…
Coincidences are like magic tricks.
If you think about them long enough you start to figure them out… Or you realize that there are unintended results…
No wonder there are so many options.

I understand this is a privilege, I do.

I’m speaking about language.
Writing it down
so it can become alive in someone’s mind (my mind)
for a moment when my pen tip puts letters down and my eyes gaze over a word.
I am a sadist.
Our language – each word – is dead, and I keep bringing them from the closed-casket-dictionary all for my own pleasure and processing.
How selfish.

tilershortz:

Why don’t they have dogs to hang out with in bars for the people that dislike people?

They have a Cat Cafe opening here in Portland. Come to me ! (Please)

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