varial recognizance
dressed to quell
Some doing, is all it takes. A little dying, a diet of lying, and wordless abandon to the strands of thin light playing against the glass. Medicine to begin and end another one night sanguine stand in the sunkissed sand. Manual time, borrowed from a terribly broken watch. A certain number of steps and the grand secret of seductive grief.
Then the process complexifies and tends to vary, night-to-night. Last night, it was a sort of retrocausally prophetic stage play, my own shadow portraying young death himself. The day prior had been deliberately drenched in whiskey, too much, but enough to mine a well-founded fear and its accompanying abject terror. I was still in the late-stage dry blitz, slightly dizzy, and made much worse with my newly minted nightmare laid bare. Then the light ceased dancing and the room ceased to be.
windowless – twelve
One wonders if the sterile, lifeless halls of psych hospitals and crisis wards and stabilization units are meant to be a canvas for the people who truly belong there. I don’t think it means anything, but it did give me an idea.
patients iii
“That’s really sweet,” says one patient to the other, “but the second you fall in love, a fate worse than death is on the table. I’m not wrong.”
neurotically charged
Magic words. What an idea.
Collect your thoughts and collate them in a hole of a different color. Fill it with your personal space and cover it with half of the sudden.
A skinless drum rings without issue. The lifeless love knows death in the biblical sense.