125 "It's hard to dance with the devil on your back; stuff that dreams are made of..."

Pumping ourselves full of alcohol so I can talk your shit and stand there attempting to behave like a "normal" person. You may no think it is very real but sometimes you have to put on the mask to get to the essence of what it is.  At the end of the day we are all human... all spewing and sicking up the crap that got squeezed into us in some kind of attempt to give some meaning to this social sickness. Maybe it is just a way to be human. I just want to have fun and forget about the pointlessness of it all. I can't be guilty of smiling and singing and dancing.
  If we pose for the camera. Flash my face. Flash my teeth. I'm grimacing at that little bit of ego and spitting in their faces. Fuck. I know I look good (or I feel good - for once)  and YES it is disappointing - and we wish we weren't like that - but I want people to see you here with me. Maybe. Just maybe pretending is reality and if I take it far enough I forget myself and we can just LIVE. If it all for nothing we might as well do IT ALL. you know who I am.
   Disco Balls. Disco ball. My body likes to dance and it is me when I am free.
Walking past the paparazzi. Maybe they are a "star" but today I feel more and maybe we are just young and beautiful . You mean more to me and that is what counts.
  The devil calls us in. Snaky grin in this den of antiquity. If we squint and drink all those suited booted twats disappear and it is just you and me, the gold and the dancing.
    She twisted in the sky. There visions will be gone in the morning but this is feeling. At this point in time I can do anything.
   I suck up the champagne from her mouth filling me up with light joy. I am she. Candlelight does not compare but it glows enhancing the euphoria.
   This is a game of russian roulette but tonight I am on top and the blood does not stop moving. They are watching. Everyones watching. Bare foot dancing. Stamping and Swirling. That arrow shoots right through in to my heart and I am flying. Wrapping myself around you shuddering... up to the stars?
  This is not a dream. This is what I am feeling right now. The truth. Snippets of pure sight.

I think I am too happy right now to make art?

I think I am too happy right now to make art -  Or at least art that I am used to. If I attempt to cling to the pain it is some kind of inspiration but that is fading every day. I should feel lost but instead I feel found. It is just the getting used to the new.

Parasite

My swollen stomach protrudes sordid and dirty throbbing from the rasping rakish ribs.
What shape is bulging from my body in some kind of truth
Or hint at reality?
The rest of me withered and withdrawn.
Sucked from flesh into the cavernous centre as it swells and stinks.
Pain pushing outward.
Some creature born within hosts itself
Latched on to my soul. My life not it it its.
I feel this thing drain my blood
As its bulbous laugh lunges and staggers around.
Swimming in stained sensuous lies
I know not what it is or do not care to have something drain my body.
If I could latch leeches and lure it out
I would but never to understand.
Just to be released.
My legs buckle as tension tightens around
My throat and stops me from swallowing.
Stumbling at every step I still do not expect this to be here.
My breath does not feel like my lungs
They cannot bear to breathe this foul dirty air anymore.
Detachment is the key.
Ignorance is everything.
If I could rip out its heart I would and therefore feel weightless.

Tiredness

I am so tired. Everything is just seeping out of me and I don't know where it  is going. The word draining is an understatement. It is like everything is beign sucked from your body and the shell hardly knows how to move any more. I don't know why I feel so tired. I think it is the grey weather. I always feel like this. Like I have to force myself to move. And I do. I am feeding an insaciable furnace. I just can't get enough oxygen. Some parasite is eating my flesh and my voice and my life from me. I can't keep up. I do. But I can't.
Everything seems ot come out and nothing stays in. I sleep I am tired. I eat and I eat and I eaty and nothing happens. I thin k my body i splaying a sick joke but it hurts. I am doing everything in my power to stay a float and I AM. Because I will never ever ever give up. Rest isn't something that helps. It is just that feeling of rotting and sufficating and everything is buzzing in my head. I don't feel like I am doing anything and I just keep on and on and on. Pne day I will have to catch up.
 I need to live in a country with constant sunlight. I think I feed of the warmth. It is just so damn cold and I don't like being in a dark hole. the wierd thing is I am happy. Just without energy. It makes happiness harder.
I want to be able to be fully there and fully with it for everyone.

Raven girl

She's so sad and her bodies not moving.
Locked in her room cos her minds going crazy.
Her raven hair is shining
But her pale skin is starving.
Hidden in the darkness.
Sunken lightness.
She is so special
But she doesn't know it.
I see her music moving through her rigid elbow
Leaking from her soul.
Sound fills her world but it's all blacked up.
Draw up our love and keep fighting back.
Sun fading backwards fast through the clouds in her room.
Her large hazel eyes hold so much strung up.
Your tender and gentle I see al your fear.
Girl your so blessed but I can't get in.
Your feelings messed up
China doll you put out so strong.
Just let out whats wrong.
Your lips are quivering under red paint. Ruby red.
The girl without finger tips.
Cut off lock of hair.
Don't cry little sister.
Not without letting it go.
Run with the notes and play with the keys.
Feel the fresh air and escape to wild sea.
Follow the river.
Music run free.

SwanSong

Dappled light plays chords
Swimming swirling patterns on
The skulking listless lake.
She gazes out into mystery.
Her kissless lips seek
Uncomforting rays.
She longs for what she lost far far away.
She lost because it does not exist without her loosing her freedom.
Her feet trapped in entrancement
Beating and binding
Pointing and punctuating the uncomfortable stillness.
Her jerking neck stretching out to the remaining hopeless sun.
Bare skin.
Bare skin.
Exposed to the breeze and the shadows of the crippled trees
Watching and waiting
Whispering to the muddied earth.
She longs to love or be loved.
To feel her feathered wing to be free
To be loved by something beautiful.
Her wildness catches her breath as she swirls and sways.
Her poor madness longing and lusting for touch.
She sings wailing wishes to the watery world.
The world that holds the deep dark desires
Where fished conspire to eat and gnaw at her feelings alive.
She flairs her arms as the gasp at last life.
To feel this bound up
Last fight and flight from the such strife.
The devils last whispers of temptation and fear cast spells on her senses.
Her very last tear.

Her shoes wont stop dancing an emotional death.
Her eyes wont stop streaming
Oceans silently falling
Her turning and kicking
Dancing music of sighing.
The wind in the rushes
The doom in the sky
The love that she feels
Such a burning desire.
A furnace an explosion
Her heart burning up
To die for the love
Of an ephemeral ghost.
A moment of dreaming
To dance not alone.
The drinking of truth from her spirit by God
Her swan is a symbol
A prison of life.
She sinks into deepness
The playing doesn't stop.
Her breath failing
And stopping
Not gasping for life.
She lets herself float higher and higher.
No fighting her fate as she falls darker and darker.
Her mind is the clearest
She knows what she loves
To die for this beauty
The beauty of HER love.

Painting in petals of the past

Stalk as dry as her cracking brittle bones
Scraping at the corners of the air,
Scratching the rim of the replacement vase.
The cold shiny steel sucking the stained roses red bloodless life.
Their fragile state holds time
Moves place.
The transient shadow cast on the new greying wall wavers hitting cold damp air,
Floating through dimmed window shattered plate, pane of glass,
Bladed past.
One petal remains.
Hanging on as if clinging to some purity lost in new found innocence.
White overpowered by sordid bleeding blight.
These roses are old and belong to a different me.
There is a pink to the grisly rain and these emblems need to run free.
The petals in my palm shiver on the wind as they scatter into the swirling sea.
The earth takes on a new form
Painting patters of pain that is, that are, too pretty to see.
Sinking deeper and darker the gentle flash fades away.
Waves of pleasure hit and eb and flow in new found ecstasy of my lost found mind.

79

And it starts with 79. 79 repeated. The day seems lost on me but I sit and I smile.
This is new and I'm not sure why it feels so right. Maybe it is the people. I like the light.
The streets feel different around here and the air is that holiday air. It is that different colour that tints my eyes. A haze that fills my breath. The cranes outside loom but I see them as wild creatures. Fantastical beings symbolising this fantasy world. Fantasy in a good way. Where I want to be alive because the point is just to be free. My face is tired. I could crawl under the covers and remember everything. The roses remain.

Art that really SHOCKED me

Before i found out about Amy Winehouse's tragic death on Saturday what I really wanted to write about was what shocked me face to face. There is a lot of art  out there that is supposedly meant to shock. Most of it, in reality, might be amazing art, might be art that I love, but it doesn't shock! Sex is exciting not shocking. Swearing just a part of the every day human language. Religion discussed.... Politics obvious! I must admit, even a water boarding  (torture technique) performance installation at the recent Goldsmiths showcase didn't shock me. It was too obvious, too tacky. What really shocks me is when I feel. When I feel disgusted, uneasy, shocked...at god knows what. When art is the unexpected.
  On saturday I walked in to the White Cube on Hoxton Square for the "Jake or Dinos Chapman" exhibition. A show put on in both White Cube's (I haven't been to Mason's Yard yet - but can't wait) in which the tow brothers have both made art separately from one another for one another but we don't know whose is who. Anyway I walked in and it was busy. There were some interesting paintings on the wall and some intricate sculptures. They didn't really mean anything to me. A mix of contemporary and african art by the looks of it. Fairly fun ... and then I noticed this group of school children at the end of the room. I thought to myself "Odd place for a school trip (they were very small looking - so i assumed must be young) especially on a saturday." And then in struck me. they were all ever so perculiar. Ever so still. Ever so intimidating. They weren't real!
  This made me feel incredibly uneasy. I don't know why. I couldn't stop staring and I hadn't even seen there fronts yet. I walked round and here it becomes obvious they aren't real but there is certainly some sort of life in them. They are a presence. A very REAL presence. I wont tell you about there faces. They aren't normal faces. But you have to go and see. It is the feeling that shocks. It is not the Nazi content or the distortion but just the fact they are there. Quite frankly I can't get over it. The press release has it just right "It is the attack on the body". The body of everyone.

It isn't there in the picture

"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to corollate all its contents"

    Dinos Chapman from the book "Nothing they Teach us"

Tears

I cry. I cry a lot. It overwhelms me. I feel my body crying from my heart. It chokes me. I cry at you. I cry at you all the time. But just now I cried at a film. I sat here staring at the screen and I cried. Tears came. Tears came out of my eyes and then they turned to tears of joy. I cried at something that wasn't you. I have my soul back. I have feelings again. I am full. Full of tears for everything. Normal beautiful tears.

Rosalind

I seem to be falling in love with everyone at the moment.
Not that you know.
Maybe it is even you?
I stood there and watched you with someone else and I felt something.
It is pretty hard to explain.
You think I am the wrong kind of person.
I don't say the right things.
Don't seem the right way.
Why does everyone think I am on drugs?

Miserable lie

It is just feeling so lonely.
Not having someone to fill every moment or just knowing that there is someone there to fill every moment of time with the knowledge that they will always love you.
Alone makes one weak and it is so hard. Well in these moments it is so hard.
I wish the pain didn't start choking my neck and strangling me like barbed wire closing around my breath.
I get this feeling where my lungs wont fill up properly and it is like I am being pushed into the floor and my spine is being pushed up so small and the walls of my body are shutting in.
My eyes well up and I am drowning in uncontrollable tears and anger. So much anger. Anger and terror and hate and hate and hate. Its the hate I can't escape from. Not the love.
It is inly you who makes me feel like this or makes by body react in this way. I used to get it at other things. I used to get upset at other things but now its just you. I wonder what I will do if I ever move on. Maybe I need something to get upset about? But why do I have to hate?
I just want something to fill my time or someone to fix me like a doll but now I am too scared of people.
Blocked out. Who wants it to be easy? Just all of this makes me feel like
my future is something I have to get through.
Just cover your face.
I don't like it anymore.

And it always gets so much worse when I am banned from fucking anything... or when I fuck too much.

Tuesday's thoughts whilst waiting

I think you are going to irritate me for the rest of my life. If you stopped maybe I could stop regretting everything to do with you. I understand the irrational behaviour - I am hardly rational myself - but you seem to have no understanding of an end. Everything ends. Or at least changes. There has to be a point when you say no more. Your unintelligence confuses me. Your childishness makes me angry. Only because I know you have the capability of being more than that. Everyone does. Very little "behaviour" makes me angry to a point where I don't understand but your blindness is too hard for me to comprehend. The frustration is frustrating. It has been going on like this for months. You don't change. How can you not change? It isn't funny or a game - how can you refuse your control? Are you really planning on spending your life like this? Because quite frankly it is ridiculous.

                                                                                                                                                                         


Grey floor.
Are they doing everything they can to make me feel uncomfortable?
Waiting games.
Waiting rooms.
I am staring in to space trying to force a source of inspiration.
Smily girl.
Voice doesn't match the face.
Your job must be such a drone.
I wish I wasn't so scared of doctors.
Maybe I would tell them how I feel.
Sometimes I come close.
But I know it's text book.
What is that fake tree doing in the corner?
Honestly - who makes decisions like this?
I just want to get out of here.
I don't care about the chair.
Cloud music isn't helping.
Not that I feel particularly strongly against it.
It is just hilarious that it is such an obvious but failed institutional choice to create a "pleasant" environment.
My life is my own.
The setting annoys me.
Obviously I am having an annoyed day.
Or just pretending to.
At the end of the day I am the one using the service.
It's just waiting to step out into the real world again.
Not that the street is any more real.
But the sky is.

                                                                                                                                                                      


Sometimes I feel like I am the only person in the world that feels right.
Sometimes I feel like I am the only person in the world that feels wrong.
In reality this doesn't matter. Neither is true.
What ever a feeling is it is transient. We will never know what it means.
What it means to feel.

                                                                                                                                                                      


God it must be so awful for you sitting here with your Bible surrounded by all us degenerate sex crazed scum. It just intrigues me. I assume people like you wouldn't be here. Now I want to know why.

On being twenty

Yesterday I turned twenty.
Twenty years of life.
Breathing this air.
I don't know how I feel.
I didn't want to be twenty.
It terrified me.
I panicked and broke down the day before.
I don't really know why.
Probably because my 19th birthday was the best day of my life.
Because twenty isn't a teenager anymore.
Because life goes so fast.
Because everything changes.
Everything is transient.
But this isn't a bad thing.
It is just fear.
I remember everything about the last ten years of my life so clearly and sometimes I don't feel like I have changed at all. I know I have. But i am still that girl.
I still feel stuck like that sometimes.
I hated being a teenager.
Or at least I don't think I was very happy.
I didn't feel at one.
Or like I fitted in.
I hated school.
I spent two years in mental hospital.
I was sick.
I was depressed.
I fell in love.
I fell out of love.
I fell in love again.
I went up and I went down.
I ate.
I didn't eat.
I cried.
I cried.
I smiled.
I laughed.
I became and artist.
I became an actor.
I grew.
I travelled.
I drew.
I screamed.
I shouted a lot.
I hurt things.
I got hurt.
I hurt myself.
I haven't spent a day doing nothing.
Apart from when I was forced.
I was imprisoned by others / I was trapped by myself.
I achieved.
I found myself.
I lost myself.
It keeps on going.
I drunk.
I drunk to much.
Had bad sex.
Good sex.
Used sex.
I made friends.
I lost friends.
I learnt to talk.
I learnt to listen.
I watched the world.
I still do.
I am changing.
And trying to change for the better.
Made rules.
Broke rules.
Challenged myself.
Always challenged myself.
Grew selfish.
Cared about others.

Change is permanent.
Fear is hard to overcome.
The future is in my hands.
Who knows what twenty means.
I had a great day.

Me at twenty

Just go away

Oh, don't ya know?
Don't wanna see ya any more.
Put up or shut up.
Ya spell, ya read, D.O.O.R.
Ya got a big mouth and I'm happy to see your foot is firmly entrenched where a molar should be.
If you talk much louder you could get an award from the federal communications board.
Don't be cruel.
Be a thing - sweet thing as a rule.
Don't be sad.
I left you in the street.
You're pre-fab.
I had to get away.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go pre-fab.
Don't go be bad.
Don't go away mad, just go away.
Oh, don't ya know?
Don't wanna see ya here no more.
Pack it and move it.
Ya spell, ya read, O.U.T out.
Don't be bad.
A mad hatter's beret.
Sometimes you look, like you just made an escape.
Don't be mad or lose your medicaid cool.
Of course, cool rhymes with fool.
Don't go be bad 'cause you been had.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go away mad,
Just go away!
Go away!
Oh, don't ya know?
I don't wanna see ya curse and pout.
Pack it and move it.
Ya spell, ya read, O.U.T out.
You got a big mouth and I'm happy to see
Your foot is firmly entrenched where a molar should be
Don't be mad or lose your medicaid cool
of course cool rhymes with fool
Don't go be bad 'cause you been had.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go away mad,
Just go away!
Go away!
Don't go be bad 'cause you've been had
Don't go away sad
Don't go away mad
Just go away!
Go away!
Go away and stay away!