dreaming

i dream of terrible things and wake up feeling as though i'll never sleep again, and i read for hours and then finally get out of bed because there is nothing else to do and all of the dogs follow me downstairs and they abandon him in the bed, alone and cold because he has no fat, just skin and the barest hint of lean muscle.
he sweats in his sleep and then he shivers and aches from the cold, and it's as though his body is trying its damndest to defeat him. his jaw works slowly, grinding his teeth against each other until i press lightly next to his ears and his face relaxes again, for a while. usually i am asleep before he is but when i am not his sleeping keeps me awake, fearful that someday he won't make it through the night.

there will be blood

it is worn and tired and beautiful and it is squeezing its way into my soul through my pores and i cannot help but wonder at its efficacy. soon i, too, will be seeping oil and burning, burning alive. like any good horror film the terrors come unbidden and without warning, a flash of death in the night. the landscape itself becomes a terrifying thing filled with black blood that will burst forth and drive men mad.

if you're curious

this is what i'm working on.

all attempts at realism are strongly discouraged

okay, really i just can't draw.

beautiful things

plump jade leaves in early morning light
the sharp smell of fresh-brewed green tea
magnifying glasses
the list continues

examine

my head is filled with holes and everything enters and nothing can leave.

scraps

i keep every bit of communication that transpires between myself and certain persons. i cannot bear to delete it. it's useless, generally. sometimes it is merely a terse question requesting information. it still stays.