deviant senses

I am not tired, but fatigued. There is a mushroom dancing out of sync to the silent throbbing in my brain. Sometimes, there just comes a deluge of little snippets, shredded magazine pages, from surrealistic maieutic groaning. The lousy Samsung portable storage drive is making chugging sounds, most disturbing. I need to back up my data now. Prose is difficult, so here is a poem, fragmented mnemonic morsels. Perhaps it is time for bed, my baby is huffing meaningfully at me now. She knows. She always knows. Good night, world.

dark foreboding

telling nothing

mummy, I am afraid

it tastes purple

shut up

mummy says

stop pretending

sister mocks

curling lips

fire eyed

nobody sees

only me

too bright

it hurts

dizzy light

it burns

toss and turn

I feel sick

shut up

sister says

stop pretending

mummy mocks

your heart

black well

repent now

or burn in hell

nobody sees

only me

salty tears

deep sea

I practice


to be

like you

but it is purple


no more you


so I can have white

and yellow

and green


I am

once more


(2014 05 18)



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