Monday, Jun. 30, 2003/5:25 pm

lit candles

I rang Cassie to see if she wanted to do something today. She was with Frances watching a video. After a lingering silence i closed with 'oh...okay i'll ring you another time' Put the phone down and burst into tears.

Tried Imo, just for a talk, i havn't spoken to her in a while. She's out.

I didn't bother dialing anyone else. I gave in and headed for the kitchen. Opened the cupboard and glared into the pathetic contents, the fridge is nearly empty, nothing worthwhile. Of corse i always find my filler. It could be bread with any spreadable item i can use, lettuce, cucumber and mayonaise strung together in some pityful attempt at a salad, or those blueberry cereal bars that i don't even like. It's all i have to keep me from myself.

The same trickling of water round the toilet system, the flush of my soul, wishing to cleanse away my whole existance.

I'm packed up like a parcel in a brown bag, sent away unwanted.

Looking through a fishtank, everything appears distorted, chairs climbing up the walls, portraits set on carpet.

Where will i find my escape?

/

I lit candles in the church ruins and waited for the clickclack of your shoes. You never arrived. Leaving the back door swayed on it's hinges, just incase you would pass by, but you didn't.

I told you of my aspirations, and you changed them into yours. Paper statue, moulded blueprints untouched.

Lining my bottles on the shelf. Creams, lotions and potions. Purple fluids, clear tubes with white contents. You skim past my vortex. Not once stopping to ask why i've given up.

Crying into tin cans, bleeding over transparent surfaces, dissolving the red away. Away from your gaze.

I bought pretty gifts and wrapped them in tissue paper. You crumbled my efforts to pieces.

It's too late now, green leaves fall to the ground and turn to motted brown.

Close the book,

i've skipped ahead to a darker chapter.