A Self Portrait in Words

October 3, 2010

The morning after the night before. I wake…with regret…ask myself why?? slight nausea. I need coffee. Here I am with a pen and paper letting my thoughts escape, describing it all with words. What are words? Just sounds really…syllables, if you repeat them they become abstract. Drinking, drunk, I was drunk. I did things I regret, a kiss, another kiss, dancing, sleeping, not waking, dreaming, waking, dreaming, thinking, my thoughts are too much. I am talking about myself, my perspective, what my eyes see…is what I see the truth? Is it real?

People, new names, faces, ‘Hello my name is jenny’ eyes, eye contact, we are all people but what do we actually have in common? I love people, I hate people, I need people, I wish I didn’t. Aberystwyth, the sea, the sounds, walking, the welsh accent. Cuddles in bed, alone in the day, listening to The Smiths, maybe too much. Tired, noodles, lack of internet, it’s 4am again. My tin of peaches is still in the fridge from last week, a party went wrong. I kissed a girl and I liked it. The rot on our wall is like rot on my eyes, I cover it with a poster but I know it’s still there. My self portrait is in the café, I am watching you, I am thinking of you, but should I waste my time?

Shit, shit shit. Now that is disgusting, don’t even look at it. The ultimate mood killer. Google is the answer to modern problems, and it is the cause. What is communication? Talking face to face without a keyboard probably, no offence Stephen Hawking. Internet flirtations are a bad idea. Text messages, 24 hour spar….all distractions. Life is a distraction. The only thing certain in life is death. Life goes on, shit happens. The photos on our wall cover the dirty….dirtiness beneath. It’s easy to get lost in the insignificant details. The girl with one blue eye and one brown eye. The blonde girl with bright blue eyes. I have green eyes that are slightly orange, yellow, blue tinged. Eyes, eyes, eyes are the window to your soul. How many different ways are there of seeing, looking, observing? You can stop listening now, and just watch. You can stop watching now, and just listen. You can, we can, I can…think. About what? Everything, nothing, something…on your mind? What is it?

An ecstatic hobo is waiting in blue velvet for Spencer. Help me escape my thoughts panda bear, I see a flock of manic seagulls, a guilty pleasure, a noodle poem, I’m throwing stones. The world itself is the bad dream. Indigenous purple is my reincarnation, borderline sleeplessness; grey bird and pink fish. Polina, Amy, Marcus, Nick, Harry, Ben, Laura, Beth, jam jam jam jamtastic. Germany and it’s drooping flag is drawn in awful blue ink… fluzy queen pulp fiction, and a broken record player. I’m alone with my thoughts for too long. The shower is pink and broken glass lovers dread togetherness… shit is the optimum word.

Lie awake and think of his name…which one? Swarming insects, babies, and apples in the pink shower dwell on communism. Give me yoghurt and boobs blue raven, it was a crush, a terrible crush. Smile, sober, drunk, vodka, wine, kiss me… pink hair. The ambient conductor has no money. Walking through doors, gates, fences. The violence braces me…grey bird pink fish. The bell jar explains thoughts of love, the government, and stripy aeroplane crashes. Ticklish Jews blow bubbles at the concert, shining sugar fish, grey bird, pink fish. Medieval feminism cocktails… People manic crying sleepy, manic crying sleepy. Sex and crazy women flutter around the edges of my consciousness.

You don’t know me, but you judge me. A pink Sunday afternoon awaits me and an uphill walk. An exchange of smiles and forged relationships at forgotten parties. I don’t know what I’m saying. Grey bird. Pink fish.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: