fredag den 30. marts 2018

Pass through

I was sent to Hell because I was tricked by one of the others doing the test. We were a whole group questing together, trying to solve the mysteries of equals and seperates. If you did it wrong, you died. But as happens - often, he tells me - one forgets the details once below. I remember a garden and hollyhocks, and I remember kissing someone. I asked the god of Death, when I arrived, whether I could wait for someone I knew. He told me I would have to travel through first. Now I no longer remember who I wanted to wait for. I think there were several people in my life who were special in that way. But the air was pleasant that day in the garden, and the one who tricked me had felt like a friend. A woman, I think she was.

First it was complete darkness. Then things appeared. Different rooms I had once inhabited in one way or other which I will now walk through. How ever long that takes.
There was a baby. We sit together in the bathtub and the baby is laughing. He is so fat and happy. Then he is below the water and there is a tear in the world. We sit by the window. Baby is happy, and we are cuddling him. Then he drops him, just like that. I guess I'm supposed to figure out why. Or to accept it before the rooms will start being about other things.
I feel pain down here when I touch the smoldering iron doors that sometimes appear. It doesn't hurt me though I try to avoid it. It's just something to pass through. 

fredag den 23. marts 2018

Rituals

I want to lead you to a clearing in the woods, and light a fire made of stuff outside of History with fireflies and jumping sparks and smoke that smells of pine. I want to dance together in a broken circle, more than memories, becoming moment, glee, and sounds in fleshy forms.

I want to be alone.

I want champagne.

pain.

We walked into the cold sauna together, and the elevator makes sounds, a sort of low humn, as it carries us through the belly of the building, and you often taste like smoke and sugar, too much; I remember how high you'd drive me, surrounded by stars, I've tried nothing else like it. You were the only one alive in a room filled with the dead, they were dancing, I was deep inside you.

It's funny how I finally really like myself while you are hating me. Little mice running for their lives, running from the Master. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I did it. I was free. I was my own night sky. Wearing white roses in my hair, and how much I am needed. It's as the prophesies foretold. Remember?

Running water and the sound is always somewhere in the background.

Le olam. The whole world is possessed. 

tirsdag den 20. marts 2018

I have been so loved the last 10 days that if I am never loved again, it would almost seem reasonable.

fredag den 9. marts 2018

Inspiration for the coming days:

paintings by Albert von Keller

torsdag den 8. marts 2018

Let the record show

The first months of 2018 was a time when life almost fell into place, and all that was good was just within reach. Slippery promises of okay, soon to be lost. 

torsdag den 1. marts 2018

"her heart felt bruised so that all manner of little things hurt her."
                                                              - Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness.