When I close my eyes and try to imagine a color, any color, nothing changes: as confused as I am, shades of gray with no reprieve or light like colors of clarity.
My hunger is nauseous.
Strange Insights arise tonight. Imagine the shape of two crayons, one entering from the east and one from the west. They meet at the tip of the sharpened end. Now focus on the tips meeting, but imagine that you are falling down the space between two twin skyscrapers, and feel the weight of your body go from a gaze at shapes to feeling sprawling collapsing gasping free falling. Same image and angels. Same vantage points. Same vanishing end points.
Second insight came immediately afterwords. Inside of a jelly fishes tentacle. Neon plastic wrap leg is a sack of amniotic oxygen and stretches but also moves according to the will of the giant jelly fish swimming in underwater space. But When you woop and holler and tear and pull at the skin of the leg, you can alter it within certain perameters. Like being inside of a lava bubble in a lava lamp. Any effect you have is moderated by the effect of heat (in lava lamp) or jellyfish (in jelly leg scenario).
Whips and whispers creep in like chills raising goosebumps up and down my arms like a stick up the hairs on the back of my neck freeze/ Hearing what’s been said to me, wondering where fuzzy will defizzle, intuition blinded, sense of self split wide open, wondering who is right in the accusations and assumptions of who and what I am and how I thought I was, and who I thought I was.
I find all of my solace and no solace in the nighttime. The night understand stillness and lets me be with myself, alone. The night is a gift for a curse; the night is a curse for a gift.