bird in a tree dreaming

i woke up several times this morning thinking it was past 2 pm when it was still way before noon. i kept feeling like i had been sleeping forever, i dreamed and i dreamed and i dreamed so much that i feel so exhausted and left with dusty memories of the images that had played through my mind. they linger...sequence of events that i long were real, along with the feeling that i can't explain but i will try. they felt like real experiences as if they taught me as much as if my two feet had actually been walking those unknown realms the of sleeping unconscious. but i swear i wasn't sleeping, so mystical, magical....fuck. i feel...i wish i knew how i feel! i wish words fell from my mouth like a fountains continuous flow without hesitation or thought so i can make you understand. oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood.

mimicking my fears into something that didn't seem so unacceptable. this is what i remember, fragmented time warps. sand in my hand slipping and mixing never to be identified individually. someone somewhere, i don't know if it's my own self...is trying to tell me something because i'm at a place i've ended up endless of times unable to expect. water up to my head they arrive when it's all over, ready to dive into the giant box of secrets i had kept from them. this part i don't really remember but leaves me with a feeling of insatiable thirst...it wasn't so bad... the universe always conspiring my every step as it it already knew where i am going.

in some kind of Gothic architecture massive and mighty the lady of green lived and she raced me through hallways of stoned flooring and mirroring walls into rooms that i could not enter if she reached them first. so i stand shocked to be alone, a single pawn in a palace..helpless. then the scene falls apart, dissipates and i'm carried though the particles of nothingness to another frame of unanticipated time. stone floor. wonderful intricate indoor balcony's with railings of pearly brown marble, there i sat with people that i felt weren't even there, single pawn again even though my other half lay beside me. we listened to this man who could barely speak for his mouth wouldn't open and his jaw would click, but he continued to mutter as though it wasn't happening, making perfect sense to me but the others looked at him with disapproval, fuck you.... APOCALYPSE! he would yell..sounding something like apple crisp. serious as ever no one laughed at his flaw. he looked deep into my eyes, he twitched and pulsed like he was possessed. i sat in wonder staring at the high ceilings of this merciful mansion. oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood. then gone.

he wouldn't stop jumping on me, this maniac. i gave him my mind then was off with my head. passing room after room after room after room.....i left them there to enjoy their pitiful little wastes of my life, this life...i'd miss those pearly browns...room after room after room after room....to a wide open space. ancient wood flooring, windows up to the sky . pale translucent lights shining through onto the green vines and flowers twirling in over and out behind through inside...forcing me to twirl and twirl and twirl out of control on my feet like a ballerina on speed. i was a top spinning because it was my only purpose. the dizziness made me smile, made me high. then a three pairs of hands grabbed me bringing me to a halt. fellow women, beauty of the sun at night of the moon in the day. eyes piercing me, the rays of light reflecting through their eyes into mine. "why were you spinning?" what was it about their eyes... silently i stare... i was going somewhere and forgot. walk on.

This is the best part of the trip,

This is the trip,

The best part, i really like....what'd he say???

irony [ahy-ruh-nee]

–noun, plural -nies.

1.the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning

2.Literature .

a. a technique of indicating, as through character or plot development, an intention or attitude opposite to thatwhich is actually or ostensibly stated.

b. (especially in contemporary writing) a manner of organizing a work so as to give full expression to contradictory or complementary impulses, attitudes,etc., especially as a means ofindicating detachmentfrom a subject, theme, or emotion.

i realised that i've never really been able to fully understand this word..

Diseased with a mind with constant ripples, constant twitches and riddles

let me try and write until i can find some sort of clarity in this messy assorted mind of mine.

--after i wrote the above, i got distracted and began doing something else. hardcore fail on my part for sure, but that's the exact thing i'm trying to get at. i haven't been able to bring myself to write or draw anything. the last time i really tried was so long ago that i can't even remember, but definitely not in the past six months.

i've turned to stone

again.

i feel like i've figured it out so many times. that maybe my creativity is being robbed by my actions. it always comes to that conclusion, but then after a while i become unconvinced yet again.

portfolioooo???

Suggested themes for self-initiated work could include:

Time and space

Map your week

History turned backwards

Social/political issues

Burning questions

Energy drains

Fragmented memories

Explorations of identity, gender issues, stereotypes

Social myths

Artist as documenter, witness, anthropologist or collector

Clothing as armor

Clothing and memory

Observations of the domestic realm

Transforming the familiar, the banal, into the sacred or absurd

Recurring dreams

Passages through the everyday

i like definitions

un·eas·y [uhn-ee-zee]–adjective

1.	not easy in body or mind; uncomfortable; restless; disturbed; perturbed.

2.	not easy in manner; constrained; awkward.

3.	not conducive to ease; causing bodily discomfort.

Hallucination: a sensory experience of something that does not exist outside the mind, caused by various physical and mental disorders, or by reaction to certain toxic substances, and usually manifested as visual or auditory images.

un·feigned [uhn-feynd] adj.

-not feigned; sincere; genuine

-not pretended; sincerely felt or expressed; "genuine emotion"

essence—Synonyms 1. substance, spirit, lifeblood, heart, principle, soul, core.

hysteriAaa

hys•te•ri•a: [hi-ster-ee-uh, -steer-] –noun

i've seen an un-countable number of uncontrollable beings, and on the usual i inform myself that i am not one of them. though, somehow right after that my mind gives birth to thousands of cyclic contradictions. the same desultory outburst of emotion that perpetually sets me so far apart from what is really right in front of me. am i crazy, or is the fear of reality consuming me entirely. often i think that people assume they can see me with their eyes. i wonder though, how i can be characterized by such a few well-chosen words?

irrationality consumes me this time, as their judgments stick to my face like sap sticks to trees. their laughter is deafening, and i lay here weeping. i guess the feeling of artificial supremacy keeps the blood flowing in their veins. picked apart and served on a platter i am tortured with psychoanalysis. the world as my asylum i am namelessly a-n-a-lyzed until i am nothing but the scribbled lines of a diagnosed psycho neurotic disorder. there is no trace left of my existence i become faceless. placed into established categories characterized with insanity. who am i now that i could fit so dearly into your definitions of behavioural corrections?

once, nearby a bus stop in a violent city, i found a paintbrush sticking out of the soil so i pulled it out because it didn't belong there. i realized i had caused disturbances by failing to abide to the standard ways of living. they want to have control of all my sensory and motor functions so i don't fall off the right path. they took all that was natural to me and remodelled me back to 'normal'. i became robotic as they tried various ways to keep me from following in the footsteps of my abnormal deviant nature. how could i be given a name that isn't my own, how can i fit anywhere else but into my own skin?

there were these weird side-effects from their words. due to these instituted assumptions, preconceived expectations and autosuggestions...i was hysterical.

i give up on you because i don't want to give up on you

Keep fucking going, the world isn’t going to end because you want it to. You think you’re pathetic? I’ll tell you why. It’s because you act like everything you go through is going to kill you. It’s not. WAKE UP. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that... You’re still breathing aren’t you? Well...aren’t you! Be fucking thankful for everything you go through. Shitty as balls... Or fucking rockin’. Again...just in case you didn’t hear me: YOU’RE NOT PATHETIC YOUR JUST ACTING LIKE A PUSSY RIGHT NOW. Life sucks for everyone, and this world is disgusting. It’s not the end of the world, no matter how much you want it to be. So what are you going to do? Whine forever and have everyone you love push you away... Kill yourself... Suck it up and fuck it... Or love every minute of its chaos. Chyeaaa...i know what I’m going to do. RIIIIIDEEEEEEE ON i'm definitely not wasting anymore time moping about how much this world fuckin confuses me and how i don't know anything. because frankly i probably never will no one ever does. so leave your mark and get on to the next life.