January 2012
1 post
May 2011
1 post
March 2011
1 post
alice in wonderland syndrome
February 2011
6 posts
amphetamine morning haze and the birds singing in the blossom tree. sunday syndrome and metal shopping trolleys. life drags without sleep. endless, repetitive, endless, blurred cycles and 4am’s spent in laundrettes. i spend a lot of time in laundrettes. it’s an excuse to leave my room and my mind behind because you can’t cry in front of all the chinese boys washing their underpants. clean...
“The blood blooms clean
In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.”
– Sylvia Plath
There are cycles of birth and death revolving in my body. I am a baby’s vessel. It’s disgusting. I am young. You cannot deny nature.
lonely train stations, midnight hour, empty shells. platforms speckled with cleansed white light. empty city, illuminated against raised blackness. sat on the train huddled underneath my fur and in need of a cigarette. i always choose seats that face backwards on the train. you could probably psychoanalyse that. i always feel so content hurtling through the country in a little tube of light and...