right up in that gap between -left ear-meets-right ear- waiting is a grimey like-moss substance drip, slip, seeping in sepia tones [more apt than grey more NOTHING less likely to evoke ani di franco lyrics] its a mush to squash to leap out i would like to write i would like to work on a new play i would like to not be scared I AM of failure of being told the amount i could be is limited. come august i will be an out of work writer/actor/hiding in writing so she doesnt fail at acting and THEN WHAT?

drown drown drown drown drown.

why i should stick to whales and bees

SPIDER...an exercise to see if i could write about anything...no...only my worst get put up here now :)

you extend
your grip
by pressure

segmented
to break to feast
to legs that creak.

your abdomen leaks
flooding,
grinding

fusing each part
to one dark mass
of you/r
crawling carrion.

you carry on.

you sprawl
in tangled mess
of your creation

and wait.

the rants of an insane man at a strip club- turned to poetry...

I wrote books,
a thousand million,
fifty,
a lot
about the dream time
(the bad time
bad stories)

i wrote them on
scraps
of what i could
remember

can't hear anything but mindless arguing deep behind my ears this one tells me the best plan was to make short sharp cuts in his face that'd look the nicest maybe split at the seams only the/my voice (the one i call other, the one i pretend isn't really me) didn't tell me to the newspaper monster soaring down from the ceiling in the single bed sized room did. this monster was thin(paper haha) with newspaper clipping hoods over dark eyes dragging paper knives towards me. death by paper cut.

what is going on with me...

my mother doesnt see how far i have come. every day is NOT. a struggle, not lately (not til yesterday/today/this moment bleeds through me acid rising) i need to explain to my mother-
my job gives me the flexibility to focus on my career
my job is not as emotionally draining as sitting in front of a desk
i create a fantasy i DONT sell sex
i have never been happier in a job
i DO Have the power
if i didnt want to do it, i wouldnt- easy as that
i am very supported by my friends at work
we are NOT drug addicts, weak, victims, sluts
i AM a feminist.post or otherwise.

how can i say any of that to her...she wont understand...she only hears stories of sex work she researches in south east asia trafficking my life story as her own so its easier for her to digest "how can you do this to me"

matthew left me...i am not good enough for anyone...

soon i wish i was air borne flying falling free .wish i was a pile of dirty clothes strewn on the pavement from a great height leaking juices from behind my spine and my ears bloodying the street and any idea of me they might have had (wrong).

matthew said i am too concerned with how other people see me, maybe if people would stop seeing me as a work in progress i wouldnt be so caught up in it...

my poems are being kept off the blog so i can send them off as new pieces...expect incoherent ranting instead...

he said: i can smell your juices
i thought about rubbing my fungus behind his eyes
back there i imagine it's all coils and snakes and rubber
one of those real WOOOAHHHH moments and the eyes spring forward right out there, just after some big bossomed bunny rabbit walks by and before a sledge hammer gets him, in that moment i smear yellow globs and he cries thrush on to my sympathetic shoulder.