There isn't anything better than this, right here: to come in, your limbs dripping down to your toes they ache so much, cheeks burn bright frozen red and it is yellow light, posters and pictures, carpet underfoot & books everywhere. A play to go to sleep with & wake up with, to play with, slip in coffee and twisting knees and feet, pins and needles in my bruised backside listening to people who bubble up and fizz over with poetry inside them, pacing back and forth. puzzle-piece words and theories thrown in the air - broken tickertape, remember? tickertape i find so hard to put together. this is escape and hope and something inside my own mind, away from you - dragging this down into dirty, drink-soaked, clawed fingered, blurred intentions, desparatemanic emptiness. this is where life & I become more important and i get to grow up without you.
i am a face in the crowd,a passerby and anonymity along with everyone else on that train. being able to sink into anonymity, to lay down underneath the frantic flying footsteps, hands and bags and raincoats, free newspapers, cold coffee spills from paper cups, sitting outside in crisp cold sharp and clear darkness. just watching. i'll be anyone else on this journey home. it speeds up again, faster past those places; feltham, twickenham, richmond - where virginia lived. whether thursday drenched in darkness or tuesday blinking but cloudsoaked cold. it is oneoclock but i still won't sleep. things are fitting the right pace again - towards home everything slows and dulls, it is infuriating. everyone moves slowly, thick, dull slurs - not words - not hope, but resignation. and throwing back into it isolation, inside, but hope. it is the most peaceful i have felt. at this moment - it falls, it crashes and crescendoes [gibt es ein E?] and the spinning soup of your mind mixed with your blood and tears spins slowly in this office chair, this really quite comfy office chair. but it needs to be learnt and it is chemical, they say. ingrained as the time is etched in our minds. integral and necessary and loved. i love it, and to have you not accept that, strips the part of me you own away, and so many parts are falling away. I did not think you would rip it yourself, but as much as it hurts it is being able to breathe again. i have no room, no space nor comprehension in this moment for bitterness or guilt, not for you. I am hopeful that this means, this creates and forces. Pushes who I get to be. What is this love? Is that it? 'have I been in love? yes. was it an unselfish, giving love? no. so was it real? no.' this is just freedom. this is just finding a place.

Feeling: happy/hopeful/sleepy/achey/guilty/lazy/ha!
Listening to: the holloways - back in hollowizzle, hahaha.
Pretending: that 'As You Like It' will be read tomorrow, by ten. oops.

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