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off the map
Jul. 31st, 2006 01:38 pmTwo minutes to go before my lunch break is over and my nose is back to the grindstone, back to breaking my spine for The Man. He hordes his dollars and cents, nickles and dimes me and I can't actually afford to live, let alone eat. Anyone want to be my boyfriend? I'll let you feed me and take me to the movies. Maybe you can buy me shiny new shoes and cute tops.
Trying to write, trying desperately to write. Angel is stretched out on a fire blasted plain, beneath zillions of stars and there are buzzards nibbling at his innards. He's resisting me, however, somewhere amidst the butterflies and maggots there is a plot and a destiny that he's not willing to face. I don't know what it is yet. It is in hiding.
River wants stories as well, as ever. She's tortured over her murderess status. Post-eyes like the summer. She feels guilty about Eden March and stands in the hold carving his intials into the tender skin of her forearm. Mal wants to stop her, wants to help her, but he doesn't know how. Niether, it would seem, do I.She's standing there, in my imagination, dripping blood on the floor.
She's also lost in the Acadamey, waiting for Simon to rescue here and making friends. There's the story of her torture and the experiments that wants to be told. It's Blackbeard and it doesn't want to be told either.
Everyone is resiting me lately.
I'm tired. There is a baby next door, maybe twins, that cry every night around 2am. Maybe they are cats because the sound is creepy and forlorn and somehow evil. It wakes me every night and I always have trouble falling back to sleep because those cries don't sound normal. They don't sound RIGHT. I hear glass jars full of cloudy liquids, test tubes and black, shiny otter eyes. I hear smiles that curve too far upwards in faces too flexible to belong to real children. My skin crawls every night and I can't go back to sleep.
Now, I am cranky and I think I pissed off Sin because she pissed me off. Emailed pictures that I very clearly asked her to delete. In certain light my legs look like drumsticks. Saturday night was one of those nights and the entire night was full of that kind of light.
Whatever it is, I don't want to hear about it.
I'm reading ... tkp and maayan to help me get through the crud that I'm writing. It isn't helping. Usually, Asystole gets me every time, but this time I still got nothing. I don't know what to do.
Trying to write, trying desperately to write. Angel is stretched out on a fire blasted plain, beneath zillions of stars and there are buzzards nibbling at his innards. He's resisting me, however, somewhere amidst the butterflies and maggots there is a plot and a destiny that he's not willing to face. I don't know what it is yet. It is in hiding.
River wants stories as well, as ever. She's tortured over her murderess status. Post-eyes like the summer. She feels guilty about Eden March and stands in the hold carving his intials into the tender skin of her forearm. Mal wants to stop her, wants to help her, but he doesn't know how. Niether, it would seem, do I.She's standing there, in my imagination, dripping blood on the floor.
She's also lost in the Acadamey, waiting for Simon to rescue here and making friends. There's the story of her torture and the experiments that wants to be told. It's Blackbeard and it doesn't want to be told either.
Everyone is resiting me lately.
I'm tired. There is a baby next door, maybe twins, that cry every night around 2am. Maybe they are cats because the sound is creepy and forlorn and somehow evil. It wakes me every night and I always have trouble falling back to sleep because those cries don't sound normal. They don't sound RIGHT. I hear glass jars full of cloudy liquids, test tubes and black, shiny otter eyes. I hear smiles that curve too far upwards in faces too flexible to belong to real children. My skin crawls every night and I can't go back to sleep.
Now, I am cranky and I think I pissed off Sin because she pissed me off. Emailed pictures that I very clearly asked her to delete. In certain light my legs look like drumsticks. Saturday night was one of those nights and the entire night was full of that kind of light.
Whatever it is, I don't want to hear about it.
I'm reading ... tkp and maayan to help me get through the crud that I'm writing. It isn't helping. Usually, Asystole gets me every time, but this time I still got nothing. I don't know what to do.
