qu'elle dénouait, se dérouler

Posted: Wednesday, March 10, 2010 | | Labels: , , ,

what she undid, itself to unfold

Somehow, along the line, this fille grew into a girl who is unrecognizable to herself in the frozen still frames of a camera.
Forget mirror image, we can avert the eyes with pathetic practiced ease; but somewhere in the vomit of pixels lies solid (heavy) evidence.

And here all I can grasp are the surface textures which are both the sum and the riddle, everything, is, coming, undone! 

Downy hair on her cheek and she is made of netted skin, a confectionary's quick sharp hand among the most delicate of elements. 

Skin which threatens to dissolve into the given surroundings, any environment, oh yes, any mise en scène, atomizing, this basic blanket for being so ready to dissolve.

Everything's knit, everything's cold. This is a spring that is not for me, winter sits in bones, calcium cold.

The elements, all of them, are harsh, and she is solid and she's making sure to tie all the appropriate knots, but just barely. Just Barely.

And my conclusion is never to give in, my manifesto doesn't include that clause, and so I do the only thing I can do in between this heavy existential freeze; wait for the calamity that follows coming completely undone, and try to relinquish my panicky sentimentality for being whole.


  1. davka said...
  2. ahh, haunt my dreams
    for one night at least

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