would you please GET OUT OF MY HEAD?

comfortable much? at least stop STOMPING!!

no swimming, no forever. but there. last night, there were flowers. previous, I don't remember. but I wake up and wonder, wonder whether I wake up again and again with you underneath my eyelids.

Most vexing. Young man, this is quite unprecedented. Remove yourself, or I shall use force.

... I wish.


damn.

I don't want to wait. Scared out of my mind though. [too private to verbalize? or too verbal to privatize?] Seems like yesterday when I wasn't ready. Am I now? No idea, but I do want it more. Don't want the regrets, the waiting, the lost chances. Won't forgive myself unless. So yeah.

Rose Bruford College of Theatre & Performance.

I am so freaking scared.

dictionary meet & greet (words dictionary meat) -> start with becoming, cause you can't stop it

I will become. I am becoming. I have become. be+come - state and movement, stillness and space. travel without going outside your body.

***

I have been accusing myself of. I have been an. un. unbecoming, that was it. unbecoming of a young lady of my status. yes. my behaviour. it was unbecoming.

unbecoming, as in, did not look good on me. didn't make me more beautiful as a young lady should be. for this, I will not apologize. this, I will continue.

unbecoming, as in, did not feel good. did not further my travels. did not help me keep on becoming, restating, recreating. for this, I forgive myself. this, I want to erase, can't erase. this - unbecoming - I [want to] let go.

today I let myself immerse in people. awash with their smiles, words, telephone numbers, binarities, weirdolities, little strangenesses. minor oddities. treasures. tresses of individual hair-thin threads/little lives meeting mine, and I am so different in being met! [or am I?]

meet. meeting. people, expectations, boarders. meeting - introducting my head to the wall (meeting - beating) . not meeting. not meting out. measuring of distances.

on meeting I'm still thinking. becoming is. becoming keeps on becoming. meeting is more volitional. via volitional illusions, I keep on meeting. keeping on becoming can keep on becoming without any (cautious) conscious input. that's why it still is. if I could experimentally have stopped to restart, I probably would. damn my creative scientific soul. and, or, mind.


do you mind? I do. do you ever wish you didn't?

I had words for you.

I had words for you - as opposed to having words with you - ... well, I suppose it doesn't matter.

You don't know me.

I struggled with that. Maybe because I wanted you to know me, so much. I wanted myself mirrored in you. I wanted to get to know some little things, only distinguishable from up close. I wanted. But that's done, almost done, almost over with. I try not to be pathethic - you're not the only one I ever think of - I try to be honest with myself, as well. It didn't matter what I wanted, in any case.

But this, this remained. You don't know me. You've never seen me in the dancing daze - only caricatures within parodies of music. You've never seen me forget myself. You've never heard me singing, in a single moment, when I'm suspended in the all-powerful.

You've never seen this, and yet I allowed you to judge me - as if those judgements were valid. Oh, they were - I would never deny you the right to a perspective. But I paid attention to them as well, because I wanted to matter so badly... and that, that was a mistake. It was so easy to take judgements as expectations. So effortless to me. Too easy.

The path of too easy is there. Too easy usually only makes it more difficult later.

For some reason, I take the too easy path all to often. And that part has nothing to do with you. It just is. But I had words for you, only you don't need them. They're about me, and for me, no one else. There is no one else.

there is, definitely, something unfair - in asking to be saved from myself.
if you try, I'll resent you -
I'd rather cry on my own -
until my mind will wake up, come to the rescue, but

until then
will make do
with the unsilenced yearnings of the body

play pretend

teach me to want you, so I can feel.
teach me to want you, so I can feel the
normality, probability, breakability of the real
honest-to-god skin, no ephemeral sin, but only
touchability of hurt gets through

so far. teach me to want you, so I can feel
safe in a normful of predictability, full of
myself escaping from the fear of confines
into their soft, soft embrace, in your arms.

teach me to want you. alternatives
are frightening; the motives, the reasons, the
lighting that never strikes - the long stretches
of time, when this not-wanting is quite enough, when

I learn to be wanted, that dubious enjoyment
of having breasts, of having thighs
but as adept at being desired
my wanting is wanting. neglected, as a
matter of acts never commited
or commited without the feel, the zeal, the
even lacklustre resemblance of
passion, I'm

playing at this, playing you, acting
my first, single, best performance, only
for whom, and for what - not questions unanswered
but questions unasked.

photos I'd like to take [in progress]

It's just a snapshot, black and white, or maybe tasteful sepia. Just hands, tight in the short black hair. Just toes curled, knees bent - in pleasure, in submission, in wielding the power. Just words, whispered intimately, shiver-inducing and sharp, silver-tongued. Just that, covering that much - a fantasy, a cover that never happens.