having your period is like taking drugs - you become both manic depressive turbo bitch and divine feminine Delphic goddess all in one.

Sometimes I’m afraid of my own mind. I’ve barely got a handle on what goes on in there. Every single light is switched on and has been for weeks at a time. The bulbs are hot. The air is electric. The rooms are filled to the brim. A miracle - there is somehow always more space.

At midnight, my lover fucks me so good, my whole body sings and I descend into a deep sleep.

The sound ricochets around my office like a bullet. Everything is happening. And now suddenly, I don’t have much else to do.

condensation crystals cling to the single pane glass of the balcony windows and I’m thinking about how early the sun sets these days.

I’m walking home from analysis and I’m thinking about The Quest.

I clap for her. I laugh with her. I roll my eyes, I claw at my screen, I tell her about the future. 

The cruelty of the world has often astounded me and I have always been too sensitive for it.

It is a beautiful day, overcast and grey but warm enough to meander around in a Juicy Couture sweatsuit set with “Sagittarius” bedazzled across my ass. I live a charmed life and I am happy. I have nothing to complain about. And yet, beneath the contentment, I am often simmering and hot.

I take a vow of silence for the month of September.
An accident. A happenstance.
I’m trying to figure things out.