a silent movie neverending

dear diary,

i said hi to forever and something inside of me changed.

life number three, kittycat, i built a gallery in the hollow space where
my brain used to be.

mary ann cotton's arsenic hands

dear diary, let me tell you about the time when i wrote him a bedtime story about the boy who thought he was a reincarnation of marie antoinette and his unloving wife, the girl who dreamt of becoming a serial killer during dusty evenings long as winter breaking faithfully facing the milky way. the pair could be heard chanting like eternal flames "these fantasies chant be carrying us much longer our crispy cupcakes molded into silky pastel sheets softly boiled tenderloins in the furious blood of a unborn baby unicorn."

about the boy who thought he was a reincarnation of marie antoinette: his face dripping with thick black oil, coming of like whiskers in heat a five year old ninja protected by armed forces and crinolines. adjoined by their destiny, a fluorescent explosion in the black-eyed sky, a venetian mask floating in the greatest of empty places its enormous beak making life in the bell jar intolerable, distanced from its very own vacuum from outside chemistry, from nothingness itself. he saw versailles as his perfectly pearly bridge of teeth, forever sparkling, forever yours.

and the girl who dreamt of becoming a serial killer said: i don’t know who you are but i want to walk beside you and when my sightings are blocked by the foggy ocean breeze we will set the harlots free and the cardinals will want to know what gives them that special satisfaction and we will whisper mouth to mouth: funerals and death, the dead bodies of fellow wildflowers wildflowers wildflowers, watching stemmy legs getting mangled by honeydew forests, the road as endless helix, a new world in every corner, and the boys the boys the boys the boys the boys are all dressed for mourning are walking down the street and the boys the boys the boys the boys the boys are willows here to kill you.

she listened to the spoken word of future gods through the maddening morning mist a daybreak like every other, jesus relishing his afternoon tea in her living room, where the boy who thought he was a reincarnation of marie antoinette had chosen to spend the night perched on the couch like a misinformed mantle piece and as he switched off his senses the girl who dreamt of becoming a serial killer simply turned into yet another louis in the wall and jesus melted like butter over the marble proclaiming these stains will never go away and through the shallow darkness of night her thin soprano could be caught seen running up and down the scales to any broken symphony, quietly roaring "is this song ever to be recorded lucid lucide lucinda my love" her feverish body leaking with lifeless despair, shielded by shadows, an index of sun.

pale blue eyes, cry baby diamonds

dear diary, let me present you with the short version of recent happenings, once upon a dream: welcome to the honeydew, madame dragonfly, the holy sacrifice of your royal highness come here my unborn child, swallow my hips and follow my decrepit soul into the darker waters of reptile nature. lingering in limbo, the shallow, vulgar and indulgent. a thousand worlds built on the sleepwalking shoulders of my shotgun lovers, malevolent creatures with chests like diamonds, petals in the rain, fair with hazy memories, mountain within mountain.

#1: she is dancing in the middle of an empty classroom, sweeping over demolished parchment with hands like forests, fawning chalk kissing starving fingertips. the chamber maid with eyes like a serpent pale wrists orbiting her deceitful head, gloomy hair lightly caressed by the breeze of solitude, turning to me with sudden fire, exposing fangs dripping with venom, solemnly bidding her hand wispily whispering sway

#2 preludum ante massam and hannibal ante portas: everything i have ever loved was lost and found in abandoned places cracks in the plastering, strikes of light through concrete walls fundamental truths hidden in forgotten folklore, haunting dreams of ferocious valkyries JUST KEEP CALM, MY STICKY SWEET, JUST STAY FLOATING.

#3 i am death, the river styx, the answer to every riddle: "known by both masculine and feminine names, and burns up without rain; originates from a man and goes into a man, no one has been able to catch it." neurotoxin flowing over across the page of our past, seeping through thick slices of dust he’s been half blind since the day it all began, the persistent sun scratching his retina like a broken record, quivering under the faded persian rug covering the roof of his statue of a mother. skin like a feather, heart like a rock.

#4 curvaceous lips, the undistinguishable shade of your iris, my shadow carried in a diamond locket in the abyssal nape of your neck. “i bought you these colourless roses you know how seeing past things can sometimes make you feel important i just want you to feel important" you didn’t let yourself take time, you expanded in the sky until every limb transformed into haphazard clusters of materia entire galaxies supernovas, since the day you left i’ve been searching the stars for your voice, gazing through the strongest of telescopes.

our cries mute and cold, the morning came crashing down upon us like

flying daggers, an electrocution.

speed of light in a vacuum, in any given medium

dear diary, outside my sphere of obsidian tears pitch black thunder, a pack of werewolves wailing to the drum of the glimmering downpour binocular vision through damp leaves, her majesty of trees: you. mathew, theo, isabel, the seductive breath of opium. - but he was never inside of you? - he has always been inside of me. for you are the children of lingering nightmares latent desires and hummingbirds, missiles of destruction in a crystalline vase.

you, through endless simplification: a monsoon without mercy, the plunging waterfall of yesterday hippie crystals, achromatic prisms, diamonds like eyes, eyes like fire vive la décadence. yours truly, candy darling, creamy summer bloom a bending reflection, translucent, yet again.

how can you cure yourself when every part is infected name the thing able to heal the hole torn by a loved one lost he left her hanging by the snowflakes or standing among in a flock of sleeping flamingos, a myriad of indistinguishable faces. when i tell you - my love equals beaks times the thought of freedom squared you vapourise, turn into the ocean floor, the shattered walls of my castle in the sky your sharpened hands charging through secrets like lightning.

rainbow raven, rainbow river

dear diary, i apologise. i haven’t been able to write for a while, i got desperate lost control tried to cut myself open with a kitchen knife just to get an idea of what is moving around inside and i set my intestines on fire for the ultimate sacrifice. isn't it striking, how every action is ultimately completely symmetrical.

nightfall leaves me craving the most unfathomable things, pouring rose water over pagan faces simply to keep them in place, crawling around in my own dirt, creeping at the feet of a sullen master. i’ve told you once before, your highness, my princess prostitute mankind upsets me more than anything. so bow, children of the rainbow the judge is ready for our crucifixion

psychotic schoolgirls licking on fentanyl plasters dried up lollipops pornographic novels standing in line like kinky toy soldiers

by the windowsill, loudly claiming an entire planet, a realm of their own

the ringleader: oh boy, it's just another one of them stagefrights glaciated in time right neon lights a momentum made in taiwan beautiful rows of riches, don't you see there is no war no box, a universe ever changing i throw myself up. crashing down

repeat.

i am the rain an exploding ejaculation crimson skies internal bleeding heart burn stomach ache a disease that will never go away. longing for a dismal future any future painting him dancing in the foreground i would do anything for the saddest mind alive, our shaved heads like lifeboats white frocks sterile scalpels minimalistic clean cut veins bursting open like bedroom doors, LE GRAND FINALE, inject his poison, forever yours.

and i want to download every single picture of you, dress up like a commander in chief captain of the sea a furious shadow play waggling tail and bunny ears, i want to cover my body in the blurry edges of your ghost, paint the walls of the parliament in colour no #1 the slight tint of your neck someone once told me

you always speak in riddles you are fading away i could never begin to understand like a frozen fire a room covered in broken mirrors a black hole wishing well put your ear to my chest listen to a thousand songs the restless chorous

i am not the one wrap your troubles in dreams

take a walk down the baseline

his brittle echo drenched in acid.

dear diary
why is it so daunting, walking amongst people who
can see you


1. i guess you could say that i have gone into hiding again, that i react
to emotions like a painting, noting nothing but colours.
2. the phone is constantly ringing, it is such vicious sound.
3. i like to think of myself as a wounded general in a hollywood tragedy,
trapped in a bunker with nuclear bombs hanging in thin air, clusters of perfectly
ripe grapes, a zeppelin lingering in the smoke screens above
4. blockbuster the sequel, for some foggy reason the underground is empty,
the bomb did not detonate, i will not ask were everybody has gone
their voices can be seen flying like meteors between the s p a c e s
5. admittedly, it is kind of thrilling knowing that soon this, whatever we take it for
will be hiroshima.
6. with a calm longing for that magical moment
i stand wrapped in velvet curtains, a feather boa and a cowboy hat
7. i have not been touched for decades and i think i might be carrying a gun
someone shouting a sequence of numbers.


everything began to count
we were born on that exact moment.

birdbath, blow a wish

dear diary,

imagine this: snakes slithering through thin air,

casually shooting poison from their fangs, you never prayed for the lives of others

or imagine stumbling down the street, drunk, numb, eyes on the oily pavement

the distant sounds of cars screeching by, your mouth full of disappointment,

a black cat transforming into a pumpkin.

or picture yourself floating around in a sea of fire, your body turning into wax,

your liquid skin gradually becoming solid, a limousine with white toned windows.

some years later in a church nearby the village where we all grew up

a morning wake, the priest putting a flame to your eyes, singing about glory

a fuzzy little animal clawing a cavity in your burning stomach, the sweetest of music.

kurt cobain blew his brains out, courtney love keeps digging his grave.

i wish you nothing but the best, a state of trance

swallow your pills and move along, my sullen blossom

how destruction fucked destiny and created something completely different

movies in made up languages are as close to reality I will personally ever get.

dear diary,

these are the quiet days

nothing moves, a decade ago i watched the wind walk run away with all my money and

how could i ever leave the house, if nobody is home, if i am not there,

your abandoned voice echoing my

footsteps

"only from the moment you start writing

those ridiculous stories on dried up flakes of skin,

they will believe you."

i lie stretched across the floor, counting symptoms,
touching all four walls with the tip of my tongue, one toe in every corner.
maybe there is an equation for this disease,

the pounding music, how the nauseating beat of a lung temporarily bringing
order to the universe.

i am a rattling skeleton, a drowning whale, a blank sheet of paper

i will not speak to you, i have got nothing to say,

you only wear a crown when the sky is to be trusted.

fragments of time, angeldust fairydust candyfloss cocaine,

i could dance for centuries.