It doesn’t really get better from the last entry. If anything, it gets worse. Admittedly I’ve finished psych, got a fantastic review, and a great time, etc, but I think it’s torn completely through the barriers I use to keep myself functioning. There are a lot of jagged edges and scars I’d forgotten or buried and I just can’t fucking deal with them right now, and they’re driving me insane.

I’ve been on wrapup this week, doing the hardcore revision etc. A friend asked how I was feeling, and I told her I was feeling “labile as fuck” – by which I mean fluctuating like crazy. I’m feeling almost bipolar, and am skittering from mood state to mood state like a frog on a hot rock.

I almost burst into tears driving home from the university tonight.

I feel almost completely overwhelmed.

I’m feeling a mix of wound as crazy as all hell controlled and like I’m about to blurt out incredibly insane secret-style things to random strangers.

I feel… rudderless.

I’ve opened up and I can’t stop it all from just bubbling through the cracks. Tonight I had the weirdest experience of being told “Smile! I want to see you smile,” while said interlocuter wagged a finger at me.

I laughed briefly – but I couldn’t smile outside of the momentary humour. Another friend in the room asked if it was uni, or what. I said that it wasn’t just uni – it was kinda life.

I’m not typically an optimist about myself. For other people I can slip that mask on, and I do, but I can’t lie on the inside forever. I just can’t find a reason anymore, not a reason for me. There’s always reasons involving others, and they are wonderful and special and important but over a dozen times today, I just found myself asking “why?” over and over again.

I need a shitload more wallpaper.



with you

I was going to do a proper post tonight, but I’m afraid it would teeter from one emotional extreme to another and might become just a little nonsensical, a little too revealing, and might end up needing to be edited-the-hell-out-of in any case. I think I might need to process a few things first, maybe run them through my paper journal instead – sorry dear fans, but I do keep a slightly more private and analogue one of these. I love you all, but I’m just a little private about some details.

Instead, I’m going to fulfil my previous post’s conclusions and put up some poetry. These are the first seven in a longform sequence that is underway; longform in that it’s a multiplicity, not that the poems themselves are long, they are more short vignettes. Anyway – enjoy, and feedback if you please.


conversations with You



You know, I wanted to talk
about angels and angles and
verdigris summertime,

but you’re busy I guess and
I’m not the best at talking anyway.

I’ll take my topic and just
cogitate soundless but guilt
makes me hopeless yet tell of
happiness, I hope.



It’s a letter from me:
starts with Dear and
ends with love I’m above
the line but here’s a piece
of bluegrass; cup it in
your hands, don’t stand but
bite the chill,
now wake.



The pillow’s empty and flat
but your impression’s still there
in dreamtime,
liquid chocolate glitters and
gleams over a smile of

I endure but I’m alone
and you’re not, it
doesn’t hurt
but it drags me to
the floor,
on carpet of lilac
I can taste perfumed
they aren’t true.



Moonbeam catcher, you whisper,
fists close on tempted shadow;
I open my eyes &
stare at whitened glare.

Breathe deep with fellowship,
a squeezed shoulder’s a sign
& so’s a twinkling iris-
perhaps others notice what
we haven’t.

Absent I’m fondness
& I convince myself it’s false
but I close my eyes and you’re there;
a mental polaroid
without me in frame.



Lipstick stains cream
here’s a tissue, now
let’s talk – no?

It’s a construct of self
& I think you’re listening
but it’s just me;
a game of one,
doubles partner not found.

I’d call but I’m afraid
I’d answer it,
reality creeping in
and helping me



I’m sure this time,
as you approach with
lapis-lazuli smiles,
clothed in powdered turquoise silk,
I was asleep.

I don’t care,
as most compassion and affection
are everclear in sheen,
while eyelids flicker and flutter
& I smile back.

When I wake you’ve gone
into dreamscape
but my lips curve upwards
as oxytocin flows down muscle
like satin,
I’ve woken early
but whole.



It’s not first sight nor
second third fourth
but cumulation,
& when it hits it’s a
cannon to the soul of
desperate-tinged shock.

Sometimes the trip heralds the fall,
but I’ve been stumbling so long
I’m unsteady,
& there’s no pride to lose
or gain
or hope to draw down


Please note, none of them are ‘final’, they are all ‘first pass’ or ‘second pass’ at best, but there’s a rawness to them that I’m sort of enjoying when I reread – enjoying, and despairing.

Ah, writing. My god, do I fucking love hate loathe respect despair enjoy it.