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Monday, February 23, 2015

There are facts i don't consider, like how an anemic shouldn't donate blood. Like you need at least one functioning  kidney to survive.
" do not deplete your reserves"
 i sit and search for the knots in my stomach as if trying to feel the kicks of an unborn non- existent son.  There is a hollow where there used to be : my guts
There's a drought where there used to be: blood
...what am i?
A woman missing her middle parts.
What am I ?
A strange sense of loss
What am I?
An incomplete connect the dots result , with hurried colours sticking out of my lines
Of which children's' workbook or adult's puzzle, i don't know ... All i know is that i don't ever get to water my plants with my own blood and they always dry out and die as a result
.
.
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" this time  i'm gonna keep me all to myself, this time..."

Friday, February 06, 2015

Sometimes i get so dark, you can see the stars in me 

Monday, February 02, 2015

Dolphin hotel. 5334 de gaspé

The elevators in 5334 de gaspé remind me of Murakami's Dolphin Hotel. Out of three , two are renovated, they gladly pick you up on the ground floor with festive music and the announcer , cold gray steel and futuristic blue lighting. They take you to the 7th floor if thats where you are headed but don't  ever come back for you. It only took half a year to get them renovated and they only go up. The third one is a sad old rusty one with buttons you have to push with all your strength to barely light up a dying cigarette orange light. That one does come back for you, only occasionally,  only when it feels like it, but makes that random dolphin hotel stop on the 12 th floor. And soon as the doors open on the secret floor, instead of the pitch black, you get the city panorama and cold cream tiles ... There is never anybody waiting there for it on The 12 th floor... You know no one has called it up there. You still get the chills and push the close-door button in a rush. Even though there is no one waiting for either of you on any of the floors. Because at 5334 de gaspé all you ever see are closed doors, mazed empty hallways and infinite cement. It's all a big void with the abandoned glory of housing isolated creative souls. It slaps your clichéd definition of getting -high -having -anonymous -sex -ever-so-cool artist in the fucking face with its concrete form. Because thats where we all hide to dream, in the Dolphin hotel. 

Thursday, January 29, 2015

confessions of a tired mind

My dear Hansel
I don't know where you are, I thought we were in this together, I thought they abandoned us together, left us here to get lost together ...I thought we got tempted together and ate our way to the cannibal witch's house together...
I thought once I got trapped you'd help me think my way out of this. you were always the more sensible one. But I wound up here disillusioned by our grim fable that we'd go through what we'd go through holding hands...I'm all by myself dear, and all I see are dizzying rays of darkness and tree trunks..tree trunks all around me...and leaves that crunch under my feet and shadows. not a light in sight and i'm scared shitless dear... of more darkness and more tree trunks and branches like spider webs not letting me pass...I want to sleep in the arms of a giant bear and let him carry me up the mountain to his cave where there's a bonfire and baby bears. I want to speak a language no one understands and hear a language i don't speak. I want to wake up and not know where I am or how I got there.
 My dear Hansel I'm exhausted and can't think of a way out of here. Maybe I'll let her feed me, maybe i'll fatten up for her, maybe I'll let her eat me...

Saturday, January 03, 2015

The wolf cry

This mid morning, early afternoon , fresh out of the shower , i layed on the bed and cried. It was a mid morning/ early afternoon kinda cry , the ones that don't hit you , for whatever reason earlier in the day, on days you've started with barely   enough strength and optimism that it washes off after your shower... It was a wolf cry, the kinds i howl in like a wolf, the ones that carry a sadness so deep-rooted and so out of thin air... A sadness carried through a past life. It was a you-held-my-head-in-your-hands cry... The ones that don't annoy you ... It was a naked cry cause you cant  resist a naked woman with wet hair and wet eyes ... It was a please make -it -stop , make -what -stop? Cry ... You get what kind i'm talking about ... It was a do-i -have- to -face -today? Cry , the kinds that go away the same way they came ...the kinds you walk out of like leaving a storm behind, with puffy eyes and temporary relief 

Monday, December 29, 2014

Guess where i am? An upside down window, painted in all tones of light gray, tips of trees , tree tops as if they were standing on their toes, forcing themselves into the frame, trying to peak in? No they are too far away to see anything, they are  trying to be seen ...by an inside out woman.. God may be feeding on my neck, i've zoomed in on tree tops and the infinit gray trying to guess my thoughts, trying to locate myself in time and space.
"If you're happy in a dream Ammu , does that count?"