Soggy Black Mess

it is frustrating

It is like peeling a plump, orange orange:
you dig your nails in the middle, rip the sides for this satisfying foamy material to rip, for the orange to squirt orange orange water sprinkle in your nose. you’re supposed to salivatate.

instead, it is a soggy black mess inside, because you didn’t know how to pick the good ones from the bad ones.

being an artist is like that. a fucking soggy black mess. you’re crying, and your nose is squirting a mix of black charcoal and green playdoh liquid.

one small desert dream

Drop me: parachute out, a tiny girl in the sky. a cool breeze, like a corona in the desert. I land in a poof, large expanse of a red and white, parachute island. the view is different here! at first the world was a doll-house. little doll trees, little finger-dent mountains, a puddle of green-spilt Kool-aid. I am Alice in the sky: Awkward thighs and big feet. Landing, I am a doll, feet melting on scorching new ground. This view is an ever-expanding, immeasurable red sand-land.

Can we connect this movie to our school/work dimension? the closest link to this dream is the Pre-loved license plated stereotype called Volkswagen Van. It is the shiny consumer land on concrete beside the Philipino shop that sells hot-dried mangoes and fans for straw brooms. My feet would probably stop melting if the mangoes laid under my soles. Volkswagen would roll with me from Canada to Arizona, until I found the nerve to dive from a helicopter.