I have been gluten free for a week now and I would totally cut a b&*$@ for a waffle.
The unpleasantness of living in this angry body never stops.
Not even sure if it's helping because I had an apple the other day and I felt like DYING afterwards.
Why I am not writing:
I am tired like deep deep inside my bone marrow and cell nuclei and my hair follicles. I am distracted by my other responsibilities like managing things for people who still need me and dragging myself to work even though my body is on fire and trying to prep non allergic foods when all I want to do is sleep as the dishes pile up but I don't have the stamina to wash them and netflix is calling me and I am just too exhausted to read books anymore and I want to be my old self again but somehow this no longer seems possible.
I want to wear a beautiful dress and go on a cemetery tour at midnight and drink a summery cocktail and go to the movies and eat buttered popcorn and travel and write a kickass horror novel and learn how to apply winged eyeliner. I want an uncertain future that seems like really really cool shit might still happen like everything is just rollercoasters and cake with bits of ordinary in between.
This message has been brought to you by almost an entire year of system failure.
video poem | swallow #3
1 day ago