Sunday, April 24, 2011


Distracting one's self from being desperate, depressed, needy and pathetic is so brilliantly hard I can't even begin to articulate it in this flimsy little cyberspace box. I suppose that's because it is impossible - distracting yourself that is. You either feel shit or you don't. You can't feel shit but not remember you feel shit. After watching Madonna's 'Like A Virgin' Tour, live from 1985 on an original VHS I was not provided even temporary relief so instead here I am, drowning in my sorrows (Where everyone would love to drown) and now I'm writing. Here is a verse I wrote this morning:

Exhaling ferns down
the primrose path,
tepid, tortured trail.
Flower stench
rotting flesh.
My palms are vast and pale.


  1. Try and fall asleep. The great silencer! Also remember that we're all going to die anyway so all our problems are really fucking insignificant. All the ones i've mulled over seem like absolute jokes now. It's sort of like when parents look at their children and ' realize ' how much they've grown. You're getting over your problems whilst your actually experiencing them.

  2. Oh Yalei, wise words, thank you girl. Thanks for all your comments, I love them