spiders and disappearing into yellow wallpaper

things

need to catch up with themselves. throw ingmar bergman (through a glass darkly) against arbitrary sleep against the naggingly unwritten aginst really curly hair against belted hippy dress (mama's), jeans tucked into big socks and converse and a pink cardigan and a really long blue-ish scarf and two tiny scary houses with doors i had to be braver than myself to open and couldn't shut behind me and the oh oh oh can't wait at all to get home and be held. throw it all (like a girl)against the naggingly in circles...against the making it ok and the dressing up up up up to the top of all the stairs and falling down the longest night for a long long time through rooms and streets and more rooms, lost myself and the converse, had them both found for me. throw all of it against this week and its fucking wednesday already and avi voted for the first time ever yesterday and i really miss her and what i should really be doing is throwing cy twombly at deleuze and guattari and catching six thousand five hundred of the sparks given off in microsoft word before completing an extensive bibliography.

(i was scared of the really big sparklers how stupid. this is all so disappointing)

i had honey in my tea for the first time last night. no more sugar for hestia i want the real wierd sticky dirty sweet. always.

the back of alice's petals are wierdly bleached to pink with some bruises i don't know why and i've not been very well.