from the journal:

I am quite rigid in the mirror –

sucking in,

organs molding to my

skin

protruding like poorly

packaged presents at

Christmas.

Looking into my

eyes,

I concentrate on the irises –

avoiding the black hole

pupils:

the windows to the soul.

I am terrified of my reflection moving when

I haven’t even twitched –

my mind leaving my body.

 

from life:

I am inspired by rest. And Van Gogh. I desire desperately to just sleep and read and write without having to leave my home. Lately, I’ve just been motivated by the prospect of this. Disappointment is a funny colour I want to stop seeing in the mirror.