“I abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.” Artaud


"I did not grow straight as a sweating pistol
to become a ghost
Manifesting sepia colored women

And she once on the bed and she with the hair
They are dead and I am awake

you thought you saw me sleeping
it was a performance of quietude
something I know nothing about”

written by poem by myself for the keeping of time 

(Source: dialogues)



I am looking at the garden

Over the crow’s nest

Of this morning’s 


The sheets are 


gentle eggshells

white with the

catchings of spilt

(whatever humans do)


which stirred and galloped

Frenzy delicious delight

Oh to be in a field 

A golden halycon

In flames

all the grass

is tremors

Moved by the explosion

of our hooves

touching land


There’s lipstick on a cigarette
It sizzles aimlessly in a water glass
Smells like last week’s roses in here
I bought them myself, because I like the way
Street people look when they see a pretty
Happy girl holding flowers in her arms like a baby
I never held the baby
I hold daffodils like my pretty little stillborn
She wouldn’t have been blonde
Not like me
A little smart raven girl
She would have been smart
Like I could never be! Can you imagine
Aphrodite in the metropolitan museum
Twisting on her pedestal from her marble hips
Freshly poured hot white marble
How shaming if she looked at me
Those cold carved eyes
Bedroom eyes 
See mortality
Don’t make me be the little girl I used to be
Please Please
Please leave her in the garden
She’s whispering to fairies
The grownups are staring
So I’m finally going to get some sleep
Don’t you know these golden bones
Are sore from all that smiling?