i am afraid of reading and fucking and eating and trusting and i
am afraid of living. i am afraid of not being safe. i am afraid of what might
or might not have been done to me and i am afraid to find out.
i am afraid of being real. would it not be easier to just be invisible, when i am
halfway there already? i want to fade into the
translucence of the grey light just before dawn. disappear when no one is
watching. no one ever is.
i am afraid of the night and the nameless fear that wracks my
body with sobs and mixes tears and mascara and blood, wiped on my thighs and my
face as if indian paint, some sort of inverted battle cry. this story is no
longer man against nature, but man against himself. i know the ending already.
no one will win.
i am taking ten thousand photos of myself these days because
with every one i am afraid i will not show up. a ghost. a spectre in the night,
in the grainy backlit black and white.
[photo removed]
will i ever get through? will it get better? i am living in the
city of light and all i can find is an itching, pervasive darkness. but there
is nowhere to run. there is nowhere left to run and i will have to find my own
way home. wherever that is. i suppose i'll have to find that out too.
[photo removed]
No comments:
Post a Comment