𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚝: 01

Monday, April 25, 2022

01

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♡♡♡ e n t r y 01 ♡♡♡

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a feverish rush of blood towards my head as i recall the dream from yesterday, or was i choking on the ghost of a past humiliation? i still let it haunt me like a moth to fluorescent light slamming its body to heat over and over. my heart thrown into the north atlantic towards the bermuda triangle. alone & flushed, i could vividly see moonlight dancing on salty water. a whirlpool approaching swallowing rivers of orchids & bones from bodies long gone, reduced to only forgotten memories now. their orbed souls suspended above sea like pink nimbuses of fiery hot light. i think about that dress. pale pink & sheer, sticking to skin like the way sin is easy and free. cult of chiffon & a desire behind eyes. a frenzied desire. could the abysm lead to somewhere beyond this world? kept thinking about the line, "...red mouth of a venomous flower, & ...[a] harmless-looking girl in a bright scarlet toilette."

my body felt warm, the heat is telling me something. worry manifesting. manifesting worry. reveal to me what it means. my mind will never truly rest until i'm right with God. it's not until then, i can finally accept death. in my mind's eye, bloodstained velvet tapestries are flung across floors. silver plasma spills from the moon to the chambers of my little heart, illuminating pathways which all lead to intrusive thoughts again. skeletal tree branches casting its shadows on to my left arm like veins & a slab of something like selenite in my right hand. i bite my cheek until i draw blood, it always hurts so good. i always rub my tongue on the raw wound & it stings. distracting myself from the rut of thoughts, focusing on imagery that pleases me: demure little black dress eaten by firebrats languid over a pile of old books, 🄱🄻🄰🄲🄺 🄸🅂 🅃🄷🄴 🄲🄾🄻🄾🅁 🄾🄵 🅂🅄🄵🄵🄴🅁🄸🄽🄶, 🄸🅃 🄸🅂 🅃🄷🄴 🄰🄿🄿🄴🄰🄻 🄾🄵 🅃🄷🄴 🅆🄰🄸🄵, lavender silk taffeta, the crown of roses (and the shade of pink the buds are) that the Virgin Mary wears around her delicate head. thinking again about these lines: "more unbearably beautiful..., the cheeks & lips of this divine creature were of a translucent pink that i could never hope to acquire from my box of crayons & the tulle corsage of her pale yellow dress was spangled with tinsel stardust."

i want him to kiss me, but he won't today. i clutch on a little holy medal from 1954. always slathering St. Jospeh's oil on wrists to fend off what's wrong with me. the roll-on ball spreading on skin & watching the perfume bubble from the glass tube. white lilies & olive oil. i swallow the blood from inside my mouth.