I want a timelapse piece of me working at night, set to this album I’m listening to.
All the lights changing, people coming in and out, but my face will move very little. Hours will flash by, and I’ll keep the same expression on my face.
Or at least I think thats how it would go. Maybe ill smile and cry, randomly throughout, maybe ill move in slow motion while everything flies around me. A blur in the camera, leaving nothing else behind but an unremarkable white screen.
In some respects, the distillate of crayon and color traced out by the hands of two children captures the awfulness at the heart of that house better than anything caught on film or tape, those shallow lines and imperfect shapes narrating the light seeping away from their lives. Brookes, however, is not the only one to have seen those drawings. Chad and Daisy’s room is full of them, the monstrous black square getting progressively larger and darker, until in Chad’s case, not even the barest margin survives.
swallowing us all up, into the void.
the music played in the distance as we walked down that alley in paris, an italian groove melting the night away, dreams of absinthe long gone, caught up in the reality that was the city of lights. i remember stumbling on the cracks in the concrete, part of me wishing that we would never move again, motionless, statues… two lovers frozen in time, in a hidden alley in paris…
I awoke with the sound of a busy paris street below through the window you left open. I read the note on the bed, I went back to sleep.
Our night in ParAdISe.
The first night we had together.
The last time I saw you.
You didn’t have to say a word, you didn’t have to leave a note, you didn’t have to do anything at all. For some reason, I knew it would happen like this.
I walked that alley alone, into the darkness, and passed out before I made it through.
Stuck in time….
You just end up at one or the other. Often the Rainbow. Though not always the Rainbow. You see, how my boss defines The Ghost varies from day to day, depending mostly on his moods an appetites. Consequently, the previously mentioned “pretty loosely” should probably be struck and re-stated as “very, very loosely.”
Cradled in the arms of a waitress.
still pretty bitter about the whole mess. but I’m getting over it.
Hey maybe this one will work out. apparently I get things when i put my mind to them.
wishful blissful thinking.
what time is it karen, why are you up, why are you crying….. you can’t stop me from going in there, you can only bring me out.
where is everyone when i need them… how come no one picks up when i call them at 3am hysterically. Where were you when i needed you…
I just killed the main characters, they didn’t even have a chance to develop in the story. What are we, you and I, going to do about that? You’re right, we’re going to forget it ever happen, the whole mess.
the whole mess.