Sunday, 19th May

I saw her again. This time she was the sea and I was the sun. I burnt with ferocity knowing I would never see her again. Each time I meet her and each time I die without ever being able to see her again. That is why I came here. I never phone, I never pick up the call, but this time I am closer than before, this time I have placed myself in possibility. I don't want it to rain, I want it to be warm. I broke the rules this time, I travelled back and once again became me. Each time is a new life, each time slightly different. I still don't make the call but I am closer than ever. I pick up. I had my teeth torn out, I had my fingers cut off, I became a baby again. I felt the material of the universe melt on my feet. With each time I remember her a little more. My bed was the sky, the covers the ocean. The jilted brother was music. He was angry and insisted he would come along but I told him not this time. This time it would be just him. She calls. I pick up.

This world is crazy, you think you've at least grasped the tiniest portion of something but it disappears so quickly and so easily, leaves you with absolutely no ground to stand on. You are floating above an abyss, and the abyss is always there. The floating is just an illusion, really you are falling maddeningly quickly into nothingness, clawing at walls that don't exist anywhere but your mind. Even your mind is lost to the abyss. The harder you cling to any sense of logic the quicker it crumbles. And you can't share it with anyone. Each person is falling into their own insanity, nothing makes sense in an infinite amount of ways.
When you just stop and let it flow, enjoy the present. Enjoy the room you're in, the people around you, the voices, the conversation you are not a part of. These are the illusions to maintain sanity. Without these things it is just the void below and above.

Saturday, 4th May 2013

A flower in boots traveling across the antartic
First letter planted in trunks, a symbol moving, a cold insect
Needing water, a message on paper to devise a strategy, a bear in costume swimming with drums crashing, sneezing, a cult, an inn
Breadmaking, waiting (no 'I'), a length of time lacking order, a pauper (no 'you'), not one but two plot, a saint, a rodent, a sharp drop

Lines on a board reading out what I had said before, straight and narrow, tired of itself. Woods and the wind hurting with eyes talking from 4 directions. We're not taking drugs anymore from one point to another, thin and bone filling rubber

2 pairs (one brown, one black) lie unmoved on the nylon floor of the 1st one above the below, fruit grows upon us all but we are all dark and lie like cattle, a plastic grounding that we lick for the moisture that we need. But who wins? Look up and you see it all, depression hits you and appears as itself on the branches. Arguments fall and land on our heads. The end. Urinate and sympathise, we all miss a piece of the wall. Black untruths.

Word plays. I was a letter scripted for actors more than once. Body part history written on paper with a pen, created conversation, numbers for pretending they are something else again and again.