i am doing a magazine with art, poems, thoughts etc... not to be published, not to be sold, just for me! oh me!
for fun, for resistance!
would you contribute. send me something in a letter! pls pls pls.
i will send a copy of the mag when finished!!
i am afraid it will not be OPIUM MAG or THE BELIEVER
but
but
it´s MINE
A LITTLE SCHOOLGIRLISH
but but
it´s mine.
it´s from my friends, the most close to me.
i have scissors and glue to make this sorta collage. haha.
ohhh it´s so awesome!! i am happy-----
love
yolanda
miércoles 9 de diciembre de 2009
martes 24 de noviembre de 2009
translated by myspace.self-erotized
goce.self-erotized.creatividad
poisen is the future, my own fucking future, so i think. as a mature woman i can´t cook a lambchop without feeling that i am fat, and gross and uncreative. wanting to eat meat. but we aremeat. and meat will be.
need so much to touch. really touch ...
cinnamon tea to prevent bad dreams that continue in other dreams. or I'll kill you, i mean, I'll call you. The Feminine brothel ---- kiss my feet.
in love with this joy. this joy that gives cinnamon tea for sleep no more on my day off.
I'm starving. I need to eat more. they eat little, they are old - parents. I am a big boy. old girl. big big girl. and museum eats up my energy --- utterly!
I look hungry eyes large and slanted, almond-like, the food eaten slowly by them except me and my aunt and sister. hunger! shit, look like twins. Sorry, we eat and sleep the same. she comes and I tumbaré beside her and take her daughter. we are decoring the house. Pure and virginal white ready for the spurt of blood and slime.
I speak of the enjoyment of anxiety, or enjoyment of creativity, sensual joy, joy in love with thanatos and eros at the same time.
contrary to morphine. but now I feel no pain, only pleasure. could choose to give exhaust outlet to sublimate, write this omasturbarme. but do not feel like become wet fingers. I do not want to fuck. this is beyond. i want to touch. touch the sky with his hands.
I have to keep in with the barometer, oh that big old lover. I might have missed in the previous contract for the absences without justification.
barometer can tell you that saved my life. Yesterday, sitting on the barometer, I thought, I still have 5 days here and and my personality has been this. When are you going to change things, yolanda? Or are things that change by themselves?
oh, being able to wait.
get into trouble again and again. Lapat out of the mud. Now i am clean. neat n dressed up, hippie-like, ready to go out to the world. red and blue and purple colors ---
I sleep no more now to avoid the negative side of reality. today. the news. almost do not do TV. newspapers do not do it for so ....
I like. drink water. and a cup of tea. and enjoyment again. as the terrifying sunsets in Alicante. enjoyment of distress. sex-ridden?
I self-eroticized. selfself. me me me.love-ridden.
I have this joy that transcends all earthly things. is pure electricity. i could fuck a million soldiers Croatica.
yes! I am ready to paint now. to my sister. love
-------
thank you, readers.
love
yolanda
dizzy I'm going to bed. feeling this joy, this joy, anguish and creativity, state of near madness. but now i am clean. clean but not ready to cope with that kind of woman my mother was. oh, s'he's PERFECT-childish thinking. ha! is strong, she cooks, so she eats. she talks a lot, chatty woman-oh honey-repain things she can, she can see beyond, she's my therapist so so many times.
the enjoyment of writing, simply. so long that I felt this explosion, capable to paint, write now. this. my sister's unborn baby. O to give birth to someone, child-bearer.
poisen is the future, my own fucking future, so i think. as a mature woman i can´t cook a lambchop without feeling that i am fat, and gross and uncreative. wanting to eat meat. but we aremeat. and meat will be.
need so much to touch. really touch ...
cinnamon tea to prevent bad dreams that continue in other dreams. or I'll kill you, i mean, I'll call you. The Feminine brothel ---- kiss my feet.
in love with this joy. this joy that gives cinnamon tea for sleep no more on my day off.
I'm starving. I need to eat more. they eat little, they are old - parents. I am a big boy. old girl. big big girl. and museum eats up my energy --- utterly!
I look hungry eyes large and slanted, almond-like, the food eaten slowly by them except me and my aunt and sister. hunger! shit, look like twins. Sorry, we eat and sleep the same. she comes and I tumbaré beside her and take her daughter. we are decoring the house. Pure and virginal white ready for the spurt of blood and slime.
I speak of the enjoyment of anxiety, or enjoyment of creativity, sensual joy, joy in love with thanatos and eros at the same time.
contrary to morphine. but now I feel no pain, only pleasure. could choose to give exhaust outlet to sublimate, write this omasturbarme. but do not feel like become wet fingers. I do not want to fuck. this is beyond. i want to touch. touch the sky with his hands.
I have to keep in with the barometer, oh that big old lover. I might have missed in the previous contract for the absences without justification.
barometer can tell you that saved my life. Yesterday, sitting on the barometer, I thought, I still have 5 days here and and my personality has been this. When are you going to change things, yolanda? Or are things that change by themselves?
oh, being able to wait.
get into trouble again and again. Lapat out of the mud. Now i am clean. neat n dressed up, hippie-like, ready to go out to the world. red and blue and purple colors ---
I sleep no more now to avoid the negative side of reality. today. the news. almost do not do TV. newspapers do not do it for so ....
I like. drink water. and a cup of tea. and enjoyment again. as the terrifying sunsets in Alicante. enjoyment of distress. sex-ridden?
I self-eroticized. selfself. me me me.love-ridden.
I have this joy that transcends all earthly things. is pure electricity. i could fuck a million soldiers Croatica.
yes! I am ready to paint now. to my sister. love
-------
thank you, readers.
love
yolanda
dizzy I'm going to bed. feeling this joy, this joy, anguish and creativity, state of near madness. but now i am clean. clean but not ready to cope with that kind of woman my mother was. oh, s'he's PERFECT-childish thinking. ha! is strong, she cooks, so she eats. she talks a lot, chatty woman-oh honey-repain things she can, she can see beyond, she's my therapist so so many times.
the enjoyment of writing, simply. so long that I felt this explosion, capable to paint, write now. this. my sister's unborn baby. O to give birth to someone, child-bearer.
my sister (let me go, old Rabbit)
i need to go to the bathroom
i am confined in this hotel room
see the pictures? number 36.
i can´t go out.
-you can see the city.
no, i need a bathroom
need to shit, you know? my shit
is baby shit, like glue. like clit.
i need to go to the bathroom
every now and then, you know.
i am paralyzed. locked. a locust
ready to be eaten up.
-don´t be scared. the vista from your room
is so beautiful. come
for a walk.
i really want to make love and then
go to shit. my shit is baby shit, glue.
green, blue.
i need a lover, in Paris, in Hammamet, Belgium.
-come back, sweetheart, come back to me.
i really need to wash my hands
i touched the green dress, brand new one for this fucking trip
i shit on the seat.
the plane.
they´ve stolen our dresses
our make-up, our mother, sister.
-come see the vista.
i want to go to the bathroom, you know!
you know. i feel like shitting in a new
clean neat shiny w.c.
wc wc wc wc wc.
-sit at your desk, Anne, ma femme, mi enferma
or come see this beautiful, so looking forward to
explore this desert with you.
i need to take care of my baby. it´s melted
inside the fucking car, no windows open
and it´s so hot. so hot in here- and pointed to her crutch
with a finger. only one finger, finger
that is needed to type, type and retype
the same old words that swarm all over the dark green page.
old fellows, old grammar, old fears, dead fears.
now you are on stage, memorizing your tantrums
and drama. low voice. show. music on. old Bessie.
something funny inside my car!
old Rabbit, let me go, she repeats.
my sister.
(hey, it´s almost impossible to shit
in this Hammamet tour,
between dish and second dish.
i am constipated,
my sister.
and i can´t sleep.)
i am confined in this hotel room
see the pictures? number 36.
i can´t go out.
-you can see the city.
no, i need a bathroom
need to shit, you know? my shit
is baby shit, like glue. like clit.
i need to go to the bathroom
every now and then, you know.
i am paralyzed. locked. a locust
ready to be eaten up.
-don´t be scared. the vista from your room
is so beautiful. come
for a walk.
i really want to make love and then
go to shit. my shit is baby shit, glue.
green, blue.
i need a lover, in Paris, in Hammamet, Belgium.
-come back, sweetheart, come back to me.
i really need to wash my hands
i touched the green dress, brand new one for this fucking trip
i shit on the seat.
the plane.
they´ve stolen our dresses
our make-up, our mother, sister.
-come see the vista.
i want to go to the bathroom, you know!
you know. i feel like shitting in a new
clean neat shiny w.c.
wc wc wc wc wc.
-sit at your desk, Anne, ma femme, mi enferma
or come see this beautiful, so looking forward to
explore this desert with you.
i need to take care of my baby. it´s melted
inside the fucking car, no windows open
and it´s so hot. so hot in here- and pointed to her crutch
with a finger. only one finger, finger
that is needed to type, type and retype
the same old words that swarm all over the dark green page.
old fellows, old grammar, old fears, dead fears.
now you are on stage, memorizing your tantrums
and drama. low voice. show. music on. old Bessie.
something funny inside my car!
old Rabbit, let me go, she repeats.
my sister.
(hey, it´s almost impossible to shit
in this Hammamet tour,
between dish and second dish.
i am constipated,
my sister.
and i can´t sleep.)
miércoles 18 de noviembre de 2009
goce.self-erotized.creatividad
need so much to touch. really touch...
té de canela para evitar pesadillas que continuan en otros sueños. or i´ll kill you, i mean, i´ll call you. the feminine brothel---- kiss my feet.
in love with this joy. este goce que da el té de canela para no dormir más en mi día libre.
i´m starving. necesito comer más. ellos comen poco, they are old - parents. yo soy una chicarrona. old girl. big big girl. y el museo eats my energy up--- utterly!
miro con ojos famélicos, grandes y rasgados, almond-like, la comida comida lentamente por ellos excepto aunt y yo y mi hermana. hunger!! joder, parecemos siamesas. sentimos, comemos y dormimos lo mismo. ella viene y yo me tumbaré a su lado y tendrá a su hija. we are decoring the house. white pure and virginal ready for the spurt of blood and baba.
hablo del goce de la ansiedad, o el goce de la creatividad, goce sensual, goce in love with thanatos and eros at the same time.
lo contrario a la morfina. pero ahora no siento ningún dolor, sólo goce. podría elegir, para darle salida de escape, para sublimarlo, escribir esto omasturbarme. pero no me apetece humedecerme los dedos. no quiero ni follar. esto es más allá. i want to touch. tocar el cielo con las manos.
tengo que quedar bien con el barómetro, oh that old big lover. podrían haberme echado en el contrato anterior por las faltas sin justificar.
puedo decir que el barómetro me salvó la vida. ayer, sentada en el barómetro, pensaba, me quedan 5 días y y mi personalidad aquí ha sido ésta. ¿Cuándo vas a cambiar las cosas, yolanda? ¿o son las cosas las que cambian por sí solas?
oh, saber esperar.
meterme en líos una y otra vez. sacar lapata del fango. now i am clean. neat an dressed up, hippie-like, ready to go out al mundo. red and blue and purple colors---
poisen is the future, my own fucking future, so i think. as a mature woman i can´t cook a lambchop without feeling that i am fat, and gross and uncreative. wanting to eat meat. but we aremeat. and meat will be.
dizzy i´m going to bed. feeling this joy, este goce, angustia o creatividad, estado cercano a la locura. but now i am clean. clean but not ready to cope with that kind of woman my mother was. oh, s´he´s PERFECT-childish thinking. ha! se hace la fuerte, she cooks, so she eats. she talks a lot, chatty woman- oh honey- she can repain things, she can see beyond, she´s my therapist so so many times.
el goce de escribir esto, simplemente. hace tanto tiempo que no sentía esta explosión; capable to paint, write now. this. my sister´s unborn baby. oh to give birth to someone, child-bearer.
ya no duermo más hoy para evitar el lado más negativo de la realidad. la actualidad. las noticias. almost don´t do tv. don´t do newspapers desde hace tanto....
yo como. bebo agua. y una taza de té. y el goce vuelve. como las terroríficas puestas de sol en Alicante. goce de angustia. sex-ridden?
self-erotized me. selfself. me me me.love-ridden.
ahora tengo este goce que sobrepasa todo lo terrenal. es pura electricidad. i could fuck a million croatic soldiers.
yes! i am ready to paint now. to my sister. love
té de canela para evitar pesadillas que continuan en otros sueños. or i´ll kill you, i mean, i´ll call you. the feminine brothel---- kiss my feet.
in love with this joy. este goce que da el té de canela para no dormir más en mi día libre.
i´m starving. necesito comer más. ellos comen poco, they are old - parents. yo soy una chicarrona. old girl. big big girl. y el museo eats my energy up--- utterly!
miro con ojos famélicos, grandes y rasgados, almond-like, la comida comida lentamente por ellos excepto aunt y yo y mi hermana. hunger!! joder, parecemos siamesas. sentimos, comemos y dormimos lo mismo. ella viene y yo me tumbaré a su lado y tendrá a su hija. we are decoring the house. white pure and virginal ready for the spurt of blood and baba.
hablo del goce de la ansiedad, o el goce de la creatividad, goce sensual, goce in love with thanatos and eros at the same time.
lo contrario a la morfina. pero ahora no siento ningún dolor, sólo goce. podría elegir, para darle salida de escape, para sublimarlo, escribir esto omasturbarme. pero no me apetece humedecerme los dedos. no quiero ni follar. esto es más allá. i want to touch. tocar el cielo con las manos.
tengo que quedar bien con el barómetro, oh that old big lover. podrían haberme echado en el contrato anterior por las faltas sin justificar.
puedo decir que el barómetro me salvó la vida. ayer, sentada en el barómetro, pensaba, me quedan 5 días y y mi personalidad aquí ha sido ésta. ¿Cuándo vas a cambiar las cosas, yolanda? ¿o son las cosas las que cambian por sí solas?
oh, saber esperar.
meterme en líos una y otra vez. sacar lapata del fango. now i am clean. neat an dressed up, hippie-like, ready to go out al mundo. red and blue and purple colors---
poisen is the future, my own fucking future, so i think. as a mature woman i can´t cook a lambchop without feeling that i am fat, and gross and uncreative. wanting to eat meat. but we aremeat. and meat will be.
dizzy i´m going to bed. feeling this joy, este goce, angustia o creatividad, estado cercano a la locura. but now i am clean. clean but not ready to cope with that kind of woman my mother was. oh, s´he´s PERFECT-childish thinking. ha! se hace la fuerte, she cooks, so she eats. she talks a lot, chatty woman- oh honey- she can repain things, she can see beyond, she´s my therapist so so many times.
el goce de escribir esto, simplemente. hace tanto tiempo que no sentía esta explosión; capable to paint, write now. this. my sister´s unborn baby. oh to give birth to someone, child-bearer.
ya no duermo más hoy para evitar el lado más negativo de la realidad. la actualidad. las noticias. almost don´t do tv. don´t do newspapers desde hace tanto....
yo como. bebo agua. y una taza de té. y el goce vuelve. como las terroríficas puestas de sol en Alicante. goce de angustia. sex-ridden?
self-erotized me. selfself. me me me.love-ridden.
ahora tengo este goce que sobrepasa todo lo terrenal. es pura electricidad. i could fuck a million croatic soldiers.
yes! i am ready to paint now. to my sister. love
viernes 6 de noviembre de 2009
políglota
(Bozhe moy! Back to remote times)
i sit every day at my typewriter- machine
berlín. tengo 18 años- maría- tiempo de exilio. y manicomios.
we eat properly, we are in war, we are wealthy and healthy,
pero estoy en guerra conmigo misma. y ahí fuera también.
yet we are tired- full time.
comemos bien, nos dan paseos, escribimos. escribo
my journal. we are all girls in this hotel- sivvy, missie.
tímida. insegura. doctores: a veces me odio y quiero morir,
and boys at war, haha, Out, oudoors!
hablo mejor con los chicos que con las chicas.
we eat fruit! we shit properly.
alrededor de mi cintura está mi comida- que escondo. pero leo.
it´s like writing in 2023- Heidi,
un libro de encargo, pero mi libro es de ahora:
now, now, now,i´m growing up day after day. now is what matters:
menos mal que no soy escritora profesional-
i wish i knew my name- Missia,
soy rusa
tall, clever clever- and beautiful.
pinto. escribo. todo el tiempo.
full time. full time i´m good at photographs.
en la vida real soy cubista, muy angulosa.
I DON T DECEIVE MYSELF. I DON T DESPISE MYSELF.
políglota. i veces me odio.
i wish i knew all the names
de los fallecidos y de los vivos.
we are alive! alive!
de los decididos y los mansos
who live in this office, this palace- anna.
joanna se ahorcó en el trapecio, en el columpio-
sylvia. i wish i knew her, i knew her- diaries- like i know my own.
tengo 18 años y soy anoréxica neurótica.
i wish i knew psychosis- to heal them all.
¿tiene ella un blog?- Marisha
i dream full time- that´s why i write.
pero escribo día tras día, cosas reales
full life.
por eso me curé. ¡Neurótica de mierda!
anhedoniac- "I don´t know that word yet!"
estamos en 1944- anna
died.
o en 1945.
1939-1999- i call them Serbics.
despectivamente.
ich bin, ich bin- zufrieden- zufriden, many frida´s faces. the face of god.
sufrida. feliz. oh, ¡qué feliz soy a mis 18 años!
happiness in this palace when i write.
estalló una bomba. varias bombas.
serbics! croatics!- he said, "don´t call them like THAT!"
morí de vieja. feliz
at my typewriter- machine
que ahora es un blog- de mierda,
marisha.
marisa.
www.jackiemorvic.blogspot.com - (unconscious marisha)
propaganda de mierda. haz esto, haz lo otro. come, come, come.
come come come- to me.
"la paciente progresa adecuadamente"
but he entered me. i clean this and that.
me pongo un tampón. lo introduzco. qué raro es ser mayor.
and there she goes- ingeborg-
con sus dedos quemados, su cuerpo quemado de tanto fumar:
a fire. a bomb killed me. a concentration camp.
y aquí viene ingeborg, aquí viene ingeborg cantando en alemán
anna frank
"se oía hasta los urales", ingeborg
wrote.
i sit every day at my typewriter- machine
berlín. tengo 18 años- maría- tiempo de exilio. y manicomios.
we eat properly, we are in war, we are wealthy and healthy,
pero estoy en guerra conmigo misma. y ahí fuera también.
yet we are tired- full time.
comemos bien, nos dan paseos, escribimos. escribo
my journal. we are all girls in this hotel- sivvy, missie.
tímida. insegura. doctores: a veces me odio y quiero morir,
and boys at war, haha, Out, oudoors!
hablo mejor con los chicos que con las chicas.
we eat fruit! we shit properly.
alrededor de mi cintura está mi comida- que escondo. pero leo.
it´s like writing in 2023- Heidi,
un libro de encargo, pero mi libro es de ahora:
now, now, now,i´m growing up day after day. now is what matters:
menos mal que no soy escritora profesional-
i wish i knew my name- Missia,
soy rusa
tall, clever clever- and beautiful.
pinto. escribo. todo el tiempo.
full time. full time i´m good at photographs.
en la vida real soy cubista, muy angulosa.
I DON T DECEIVE MYSELF. I DON T DESPISE MYSELF.
políglota. i veces me odio.
i wish i knew all the names
de los fallecidos y de los vivos.
we are alive! alive!
de los decididos y los mansos
who live in this office, this palace- anna.
joanna se ahorcó en el trapecio, en el columpio-
sylvia. i wish i knew her, i knew her- diaries- like i know my own.
tengo 18 años y soy anoréxica neurótica.
i wish i knew psychosis- to heal them all.
¿tiene ella un blog?- Marisha
i dream full time- that´s why i write.
pero escribo día tras día, cosas reales
full life.
por eso me curé. ¡Neurótica de mierda!
anhedoniac- "I don´t know that word yet!"
estamos en 1944- anna
died.
o en 1945.
1939-1999- i call them Serbics.
despectivamente.
ich bin, ich bin- zufrieden- zufriden, many frida´s faces. the face of god.
sufrida. feliz. oh, ¡qué feliz soy a mis 18 años!
happiness in this palace when i write.
estalló una bomba. varias bombas.
serbics! croatics!- he said, "don´t call them like THAT!"
morí de vieja. feliz
at my typewriter- machine
que ahora es un blog- de mierda,
marisha.
marisa.
www.jackiemorvic.blogspot.com - (unconscious marisha)
propaganda de mierda. haz esto, haz lo otro. come, come, come.
come come come- to me.
"la paciente progresa adecuadamente"
but he entered me. i clean this and that.
me pongo un tampón. lo introduzco. qué raro es ser mayor.
and there she goes- ingeborg-
con sus dedos quemados, su cuerpo quemado de tanto fumar:
a fire. a bomb killed me. a concentration camp.
y aquí viene ingeborg, aquí viene ingeborg cantando en alemán
anna frank
"se oía hasta los urales", ingeborg
wrote.
jueves 29 de octubre de 2009
st. mary´s trance
(after a work by Mike Kelley)
st. mary..s our mother. not that other st. mary,
the virgin, that blonde woman, spiritual, jesus..mom.
st. mary is OUR MOTHER.
she was bright, smart, awesome.
she built this building for bad behaviour
teenagers- it..s a highschool.
parish council meets tonight,
when we cuddle each other and then
snuggle up in our bedrooms, kitchen floor
patti, mike, Brother, window widow, level 3
in A 203, A 202, A 201, A200.
st. mary had trances at the gym mezzanine,
at the fan room, at the auxiliary gymnasium
but above all, above all, in the middle
of the class of art school level 2.
the wall, paintings and drawings and
scribblings over the glasses
oh what happened in the courtyard!
st. mary has angel..s hair, she saw ectoplasms,
cum stains,
st. mary of wayne 3rd floor.
i heard from her mouth a yellish whisper
"bring me the ass of the death youth a kiss"
or i saw it written in the bathroom doors.
st.mary 3rd floor 1862-1987.
kisses behind the locker room
panic, racings, i ran to and fro.
parish council meets tonight.
archdiocese to rule next week.
oh. the fate of st. mary..s---
may 1960. WINDOW. level 3
loading dock, library, bookstore.
st. mary..s many squares our bedrooms.
girl mary..s trance.
we drew the planning, we drew the ass,
the angel..s hair of our st. mary, our holy mother.
we took painkillers that had no effect
in weddings among us; no studies.
we were always nervous and sexual.
i married a st. mary..s girlwe had 8 children. or 18.
i should have hung them as my sister
hung her 8 cats.
our holy mother, no, the other one
cuts our toenails, shaves the girls.. legs:
we were so tired.
st. mary..s our mother. not that other st. mary,
the virgin, that blonde woman, spiritual, jesus..mom.
st. mary is OUR MOTHER.
she was bright, smart, awesome.
she built this building for bad behaviour
teenagers- it..s a highschool.
parish council meets tonight,
when we cuddle each other and then
snuggle up in our bedrooms, kitchen floor
patti, mike, Brother, window widow, level 3
in A 203, A 202, A 201, A200.
st. mary had trances at the gym mezzanine,
at the fan room, at the auxiliary gymnasium
but above all, above all, in the middle
of the class of art school level 2.
the wall, paintings and drawings and
scribblings over the glasses
oh what happened in the courtyard!
st. mary has angel..s hair, she saw ectoplasms,
cum stains,
st. mary of wayne 3rd floor.
i heard from her mouth a yellish whisper
"bring me the ass of the death youth a kiss"
or i saw it written in the bathroom doors.
st.mary 3rd floor 1862-1987.
kisses behind the locker room
panic, racings, i ran to and fro.
parish council meets tonight.
archdiocese to rule next week.
oh. the fate of st. mary..s---
may 1960. WINDOW. level 3
loading dock, library, bookstore.
st. mary..s many squares our bedrooms.
girl mary..s trance.
we drew the planning, we drew the ass,
the angel..s hair of our st. mary, our holy mother.
we took painkillers that had no effect
in weddings among us; no studies.
we were always nervous and sexual.
i married a st. mary..s girlwe had 8 children. or 18.
i should have hung them as my sister
hung her 8 cats.
our holy mother, no, the other one
cuts our toenails, shaves the girls.. legs:
we were so tired.
lunes 26 de octubre de 2009
hooked
hooked. i am who is down, he..s up.
i am down. by a hook. impotents have dignity,
they are always up over my back. neck, neurona.
and me, down, hooked, hung-up, crazy-
i see the ravine below. i yell of pure panic.
study your situation.
down are the snow, black smoke, a cabin.
down is not that far. i can touch the soil
with my toes. he will not break my heart again.
i grab my long hair, hooked to the hook.
i make a mess with my hair to be more hooked-
i jump. or i should do that.
"shhep in fog", sylvia i abduct.
i live in SPain. je ne parle pas français. not english.
there are bushes in ambush, a barometer
to measure my palpitations.
an exhibit opening in the middle of my sight,
this right eye, the blue mist.
"i was blind"
there is an exhibit i panic. oh old panic
i swallow down every fucking day.
i am Ishtar, so many sick breasts,
so much love to give. leaving is my luck.
unhook the sweaty mess of your
hair. leave. jump. skip the fence.
"flee on your donkey" madam.
where is the exit? no flash accompanies my
runaway rabbit.
flesh that is meat. i am not an ass
not a vagina, not a mout, an ear.
just a right eye. not a foggy mind.
not flat as a fan.
i jump this holy day. the day of love.
dirt 2 inches thick.
i go out through the exit gate.
smell of piss of last night boozers.
old men, they are too young for me.
old men. drunk vomits.
i wear my pampooties.
my new blue dress over jeans
just to my knees.
recently showered.
i am beautiful, catherine. and you are not.
i am not in love with my rapist.
i do not love every human being
anymore.
i am down. by a hook. impotents have dignity,
they are always up over my back. neck, neurona.
and me, down, hooked, hung-up, crazy-
i see the ravine below. i yell of pure panic.
study your situation.
down are the snow, black smoke, a cabin.
down is not that far. i can touch the soil
with my toes. he will not break my heart again.
i grab my long hair, hooked to the hook.
i make a mess with my hair to be more hooked-
i jump. or i should do that.
"shhep in fog", sylvia i abduct.
i live in SPain. je ne parle pas français. not english.
there are bushes in ambush, a barometer
to measure my palpitations.
an exhibit opening in the middle of my sight,
this right eye, the blue mist.
"i was blind"
there is an exhibit i panic. oh old panic
i swallow down every fucking day.
i am Ishtar, so many sick breasts,
so much love to give. leaving is my luck.
unhook the sweaty mess of your
hair. leave. jump. skip the fence.
"flee on your donkey" madam.
where is the exit? no flash accompanies my
runaway rabbit.
flesh that is meat. i am not an ass
not a vagina, not a mout, an ear.
just a right eye. not a foggy mind.
not flat as a fan.
i jump this holy day. the day of love.
dirt 2 inches thick.
i go out through the exit gate.
smell of piss of last night boozers.
old men, they are too young for me.
old men. drunk vomits.
i wear my pampooties.
my new blue dress over jeans
just to my knees.
recently showered.
i am beautiful, catherine. and you are not.
i am not in love with my rapist.
i do not love every human being
anymore.
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