busted

there's a ghost in the room.

i heard it. i caught the change in the air. perception judged with another sense i haven't got words for.

she saw me. we crossed on the landing. i bowed my head in respect. i would have taken my hat off had i been a gentleman. but this is a detail neither of us cared for. we circled each other. trying to keep our distances and histories and prominent emotional auras to ourselves.

she looked down and acted disinterested. she couldn't fool me, i knew she was curious. i chose to walk on my tiptoes. not because of fear, just trying to be elegant and limit my clumsiness. being sure of yourself is a sure-fire hit with the ladies.

she started to talk. mouth full of energy and intent. a voice so quiet i was deafened. i understood immediately her light and tactful tone. playful words darting out of her causing a wave of particles heading towards my direction. i absorbed them through my core, becoming them at her instruction. but every time i tried to reply she would stop and stare blankly. oh i could never impress her like that. i looked down in embarrassment.

she passed me and nodded goodbye. i wished for a long black coat and a walking stick to accompany my sorrow at her loss of life and then i wished for better timing. had all those years not been between us, i would have met my one.

serotonin dreaming: abstraction

under the table.

unidentifiable form.

unidentifiable heart rate. sweaty palms feeling like two squidgy blocks of cold fat wrapped in hairless animal skin. limbs. short core body. vibrating heat.

smelling of dust and winter memories wrapped up inside a clean sock. packed in a uni suitcase. next to a crumpled up receipt listing item 1 and a price I don't care to dispute.

as the reel rolls, images take form through their movement. a washing machine spin. tilting head right. is it the reflection I'm into or am I trying to read the meaning in the turn of wet foam fabric?

expulsion of purity. anything absolute leave me immediately. I only deal in question marks and qualms. I only accept immediate hesitation. I can only and will only can. bitten the tail and eaten into the centre. lips meeting lips. dematerialise and engulf everything. i strive for dissolution to become part of any life.

storybook 3 pieces on sleep

- "I was asked to perform a reading from a book. to this wide-eyed beautiful creature nestling under covers in front of me. I put a lot of effort in appearing maternal or calm or soothing, but am such a nervous and excitable person, I am not convinced I was the least sleepifying for this child. But I remember awkward people were my favourite when i was younger so this might just work. I put her to bed while everyone else was in the living room, smoking cigarettes and discussing politics and acting out their fantasies of being academic adults in brown cord trousers and v-neck patterned jumpers and not being ironic.
She held my hand. The fragile comfort-seeking action made something in my stomach twinge. Role reversal like in all those great shit Disney films. My hand reaching out seeking the comfort and grounding magic of an adult woman, even if not my mother. The intense connection felt with aunts and best friends of my mum's. The assumption of acceptance and love. Often this was what caused the love and acceptance that followed. I requested it in reverse. They offered it first before they knew they were doing it or I knew i was requesting it. And then the game of breathing. I could trick them into thinking I was asleep by imitating deep, slow breathing. I would relax my eyes just so they wouldn't flicker at all. I would assume the position I woke up in the morning in. Sometimes so convincing I would wake up the next day having failed to stay up.
I looked down at this girl. She was so beautiful. I felt rude staring at her. Intruding someone else's space for my pleasure. But yet I felt totally righteous standing there holding her hand with one arm and whispering my grandma's lullaby to her. I quietly removed my hand and blew her a kiss whilst i tiptoed out the room without turning my back on her. I would never be able to turn my back on a child, I realised. Particularly a sleeping one. I bet the burglars we had when I was little didn't either when I was asleep that time. They blew kisses at me whilst collecting our possessions and before emptying everything on the big kitchen table."


------
-always the one to have the last word:

will you read me from my book?
will you tell me a story?
will you make something up?
will you bring me some water?
will you tuck me in?
will you throw me a blanket?
will you put down my socks?
will you tickle my back?
will you kiss me goodnight?
will you turn the light off?
will you leave the little light on?
goodnight
goodnight
sleep tight

can you get the lights please?

yes

thank you

uh huh

mmmm

g'night

yeah you too

have fun in your dreams

meet me by the meeting point sign

i will

i'll be holding an umbrella

i'll be wearing dungarees

i'll be holding an ice cream and looking for you

i will too

see you then then

then then then then

can you stop it?

stop what?

speaking

i'm not. you're speaking.

ok

stop

i have.


good.

great. it's all good then

yeah everything's fine

is it? then why are you still going on about it?

i was only saying

you keep saying.

so do you.

shhhhh

i'm quiet.

good

good



am awake now.

no you're not

no i'm not.

shut up.

---------
so comfortable I could only assume I was alseep. or flying. I tried to roll over or move but I seemed to not have a body. I nodded my head as I got in the cloud of the first wave. Shivers and magic. I moved what could be my neck, a little. Despite the lack of body, I could logically piece together information to understand how to move. VK passes me the wine. I take a sip as I look at the cobbled street and my cobbled feet and the cobbled world around all cobbling on like nothing matters. Organic. And so very pixelated. I took a bigger sip and eased into the liquid feeling of flowing. I got all excited again, thinking of the movement of my skin against the fabric dressing it against the air against the breeze against the thousands of invisible touches to come. I passed the bottle on to the next person, noticing their dubious balance as they extended their grabbing arm with unsure fingers. I noticed how I was now raised to the top of my cartesian theatre, if a little off it- actually above it. I was sat cross-legged on the top left of my head. watching the show  from the floor. arranging the blocks with playfulness or by luck.

Horror story #6

"Couldn't find my shoes. all of them had been stolen one by one by some prankster. there is no other way they would have disappeared.

i looked in the wardrobe. and under my bed. and in the many carrier bags left by the table legs, which look messy and make me stressed and they still haven't got my shoes in them so why do i keep them?

Shirley McFly called me from the opposite bungalow- or bin-galow har har - to label this a 'Mystery' and play Poirot. i explained it's a little too late for silly games and my shoesies had totally walked out on me so she stopped being abrasive to my sensitive state and showed more consideration. She carried on with her investigation, but in secret while i despaired over the loss of my six beautiful silver shoes.

i looked at my bare feet and was hit by a genuine shock. i didn't have toes to paint the nails of. i had nothing but my six legs. now hanging dryly. undecorated. i had to accept myself as a boredom again.

i looked at the mirror and called Shirley on her mobile.she said she had narrowed it down to 2 suspects. the bin men who vigorously shake our homes every thursday at 5 am and thus damage our belongings all the time, or the "Burglar" (with two quotation marks, he specifies), who is a Chief Leader of Fleas living on Floxy (the local hussy fox- likes to hang out by the bridge late at night). i told her we're better off without shoes and better off without makeup on and genuinely better the rawer we come across.

she argued i'm being defeatist, but it was impossible not to be in my case. my shoes. all very gone. and shirley living out a childhood fantasy of solving mysteries with a magnifying glass. i resented her purity sometimes. i resented anyone's innocence when i was miserable. but i didn't ever let my pessimism and hurt shadow my thinking.

i went out shoeless and with a proud smile on. asking for answers. shacking my fist at the evil.

i was met by nothing. emptiness. no colours. no smells. only my shoes. under a big bright light. in the middle of the road. next to them a letter:

i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry.

written in my handwriting.

i realised my eyes were closed.

i couldn't open them to wake up.

they were already open."

fair

if you ever make a sound again i will stop.
right. get out of the car.
fine. bye
but we're only little. you'll leave us on the side of the road? mum, tell him. he's being ridiculous.
you are being ridiculous for christ's sake. if they get off, i get off.
right, well then you'll all get off. i won't discuss this further.
dad this is not FAIR!
life is not fair.
but what did we do? what did i do?
get out i said.
but mum-dad-why- it's so hot. but why? why don't we go to the beach? let's be together. it's all ok. come on. COME ON. why? will we ever get to the beach? mum? MUM.
come one girls. let's get off here. your father. has made a.. decision.

my feet burning on the tarmac. little stones nestling in the crack between my big toe and the second one. everything feels vague and dusty and brown. the sound of zooming traffic is perfectly spaced out, keeping time. reassuringly, my hand braids through my hair. scalp still hurting from the last bout of lice. i look at my sister's feet. the bottoms of her soles so dark and her little skinny legs are dancing around each other. blinding sun and no uncovered human in sight. only machines with men in them. i feel so female. i feel so small. our mum, never good with heat, is huffing and wiping her heavily perspiring forehead with a scarf, whilst looking through her bag for her credit cards squirrelled away in pockets of other pockets. bags in bags and tissues and wet wipes and sun cream and mum smells. she finds her sunglasses and put them on. another huff and she's realised she has a tenner. she folds it in half. she unfolds it with her thinking look. she folds it lengthways. puts it in one of many pockets. i am hungry. i miss dad. i'm sad he must be feeling so sad about this situation. he must be feeling guilt and he must be trying to think of a way of returning and making this all ok again. i'm really hungry. i want all four of us to be together. the way it's always been. all happy and safe.

mummy i need a wee.

oh for god's sake. let him calm down and he'll come back for us. i promise. come on, let's find a toilet. and some water. or maybe we can get a taxi. let me see, i think i have some money in my bag. (i don't tell her i saw her put it in that pocket. there's no point engaging further with decisive crisis-solving mum. just follow her instructions holding her hand and smelling her wonderful perfume. mums are so beautiful. will i be so beautiful when i'm a mum too?)

mummy i'm hungry. mum it's so sunny.
i'm so angry with him.
where did he go? is he coming back?
i don't know, darling. i don't know.
mum i need a wee. oh i'm so thirsty.
here, put your hats on. i can't find my card to get cash out. we have to wait for him. ok let's just start walking, show him we're fine without him.

(...)

mum dad is here. he's stopped the car. shall we get in mummy?
i want to get in mummy.
mum.
ok. get in girls.

(...)

who wants an ice cream?
who wants some water?
shall we go to the beach?
dad, we want to inform you mum is angry and not talking to you because you left us on the side of the road for a long time in the sun in the middle of nowhere.
dad, can you turn the radio on?
dad can we sing again or will you get angry?
only if you don't shout while i'm trying to find my way on this stupid island. i can't get lost again. we have no petrol!
dad, where did you go when you left us?
i drove around and felt really really bad and stopped and did a turn.
but it felt like HOURS.
it was only 5 minutes. are you crazy? i would never have properly left you without your mum. you just infuriated me with your screaming and i was trying to concentrate on the road so we don't crash!
You should learn how to drive more confidently or let someone else drive then! your little birds, you threaten to leave on the road for no good reason! i am SO angry with you.

well well. ok.

(...)

who wants to go to splashworld?

ME ME ME ME!!
and you?
no i'm ok thanks. i want to go home.
oh come on. i'll buy you an ice cream my gorgeous. i love you you know.
just leave me alone ok?
ok ok.

mum, it's fine, dad is not annoying now, come on let's go to splashworld!

don't you dare do that again.
cooomee oooon it wasn't thaat bad.
you don't know what you're saying you silly silly man.
come on honey.

dad, will you get on the water slides with us?
oh no, here we go again. bleuuugh do i have to? fine, if you insist... sorry, duty calls.
-make sure they're safe!
i will and you put on some more of your tanning oil.
pfff (she smiles at him).


(if you have ever felt insecure, i challenge you to imagine what life might be like when you're going through it without holding anyone's hand or resting your face on their belly when you hug them or laughing at Peter Sellers on tv on a hot sunday night with them. it's a bit like looking down a cliff. it's a bit like looking in the mirror. apparently i am immature. but i'm not, i'm just inexperienced.)

symptomatology

exactly by coincidence we sneezed at the same time.
it started off as a side project i had every intention of ignoring.
exactly like several others before it. exactly like what you would label as 'normal' and noddingly try to move me away from describing. you get it. of course and why did i ever doubt this?

exactly by circumstance and luck and regret, i lifted my skirt up past my knees and felt my freedom in my bruised bones.
i smiled with my eyes, of course, and let my charm echo in the room. i wanted something to make the same sense i had felt. the glittery magic of feeling precious.
that sensation that vaporises once anyone else is in the room in your house.you can catch it in an enormous glass jar, if you wish, but without a name it is not going to be of any use.

as per usual. an autumnal excitement as for the parties and snuggles and cups of hot and the sensual pulling on of knitwear and friend-made-gloves. as per usual. a bottomless ditch accumulating forgotten districts of thought, doubts and self-preservation pep-talk, almost done reforming.

sometimes i feel my connection to the elements is elemental.

sometimes i understand what i mean before i feel it.

most of the times nothing is clean and nothing is available completely to me as i assume i cannot be available to anyone else or to my heart.