a kind cynic

i’m not completely sure why, but it seems as if my tastes delve further and further into darkness as i get older. perhaps it is the cruelties of the world that has jaded my hopelessly romantic disposition; perhaps it is my way of saying fuck you right back. i feel myself drawn to evil; amused and titillated. but only to a certain degree. as i feel myself drawing darkness into my soul, i also feel myself wanting to send out more light. i find myself wanting to protect the few good things out there, guard them with my life. i want to remind people that you’re supposed to be good, because i feel like everything out there is telling us it’s okay not to be. it’s a dog eat dog world. you have to kill to survive. i know that’s how it is, but we make it so. i want to tell people to look into the mirror, and then ask themselves who the real threat is. i want to tell myself to do exactly that. i don’t believe the answer is to just forget it and give and give and give. because you will get crushed out there. but don’t just take. try not to make it worse.



the air nibbles callously at my cheeks as i walk, coat flapping in the wind. my shadow spreads its wings, ready to fly as my feet stomp their way forward. shards of glass lie scattered on the ground, stars fallen from way up high, shattered by the impact. they shimmer in pieces, catching light artificial, releasing beauty more than natural. ready to cross the street, a car whizzes past. my eyes meet the drivers’, time slowing, stretching into the thickest of honeys. as it drips, the music echoes in my ears, words seeping into my mind. now she’s gone, love burns inside me. i enter the bus, scrambling to find my foundation. equilibrium is hard-earned here. people stumble in one by one, together we stagger towards our destination. no one presses the stop button. we may be shaken, but we’re sharp. my mind ambles, remembering when i dropped my keys down the elevator shaft. one slim slit, deep magnetic. they were swallowed, devoured in the blink of an eye. i peered down into the darkness, wondering what lay there. i imagined an abyss, a portal into a different dimension. i felt its stare, saw, in my mind’s eye, my keys being crushed, pressed together into a singularity. one phone call and an instant later, the keys were in my hand again. the bailiff got them for me, fished them out like it was nothing. the master of the abyss, i guess. can the abyss even be mastered, or can it only ever master?

yayoi kusama, kusama’s peep show or endless love show (1966)

A dream of light and beauty and sadness.

I dreamed that I was alone, in a big house bathed in light. There were gauzy fabrics swaying back and forth through the windows. She came, to keep me company. Like she always does. I had to cross the street. When we got outside, the rain was pouring. I called the other her, reassuring her that I was alright. That I wasn’t alone.

We found ourselves on a roof, seeing the identical buildings stretch out into infinity. Yet another her could be seen from a distance. She was with a he. She was being broken by a he. We called out to her, telling her to come with us. She looked up at us with the eyes of a frightened child, asking if we came there too. We whispered mischievously that “we totally do”. The smile was back on her face.

Then we were back in the house. The rain had gotten worse, and now the whole neighborhood was within the same four walls, bathed in light. That was how I knew it was over. But I guess I’d always known.

I was in a room, the most beautiful room I had ever seen. Flowers and light everywhere. It was innocence and the loss of it. The coming of age and the departure. A transition. There were several other shes now. We were sisters; not of blood, but of oath.

We were wearing white. Velvet, lace and silk. Clothing from another era. In a world of no era. The rain was pounding against the window. We wanted to end it together. I looked around me, tearing up. This was the end. This was a beautiful end. People kept barging in, wanting to disturb. There was no lock on the door. There were things being thrown. People staring. But no one stopped us. Eventually, we could barricade ourselves. Keep the others out. I wanted to have a picture taken. Wanted to remember. No, wanted to be remembered. It was instantly forgotten. Two of the shes were ordering something. We all knew what it was, but not a word was uttered. Understanding lay thick in the air.

The rain was still pouring. The soft tinkering of a piano sounding. We had eaten cake. One of us was tearing what little was left into small pieces and another made swirls of cream. I looked around me, realizing that I had to do it now. Capture the moment before it was too late. I looked around me, and it was all too much. Where does one begin? A she was sleeping in a bed of blooming peonies, blushed like the apples of her cheeks. I raised the lens and all sound stopped – the nothing, strained and brittle in the air. A soft whisper was heard: “She has to do this.” The snap of a camera echoed, and the silence was shattered. Piano and rain was heard again, now with the echo of an instant being suspended into eternity. But we were done and it was all over. Gone. Forever.


This is the prettiest and most sorrowful dream I have ever had.