ENTRY #????

I do not think they will sing to me.

But I will sing, tinnily, like a ringing in the ears, a wind-up bird to fill the dusk belonging to a prestigious man who will never be satisfied. He owns the blind dusk. And in my own mind, I begin to cry. For the silvery notes turn base, my fog stripped away, and I realize what I am. Why the mermaids will not sing to me.

I am a harpy, screeching horribly, ruined. Plucking eyes out with my vile talons, laughing and harsh, all the lines of my face deepened in the stark light. I have wasted my time. The sea-maids, I horrify them. They drown men with honey and offers of pearls, and yet I horrify them.

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ENTRY #????

If I take your eyes away, you cannot complain they are blind. You cannot complain of others’ lack of vision or understanding. It will eliminate your prejudicial claims. I will beat you over the head until you swear that nothing I say is true.

You will not know up from down, or truth from nightmares. Eclipsed in a perpetual twilight of spliced-together seconds, you will believe in the construct of the present time. And I will own you.

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ENTRY #????

She will be more real than art itself. Art has no purpose—but she has something of the tiger, breath burning like a furnace. So bright, like a star lost in the blackness. Eyes through the bamboo like twin coals, the heart undoused in fury. A startling symmetry. And her claws will scream for the necessity of blood to keep herself alive.

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ENTRY #????

I choose not to write today beyond what I have already written.

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ENTRY #????

In my fantasies I destroy you.

I am victorious at the very moment you attempt disembowelment from curiosity itself.

With laughing eyes I invite you to death. A kind of brittle lesson will blow away after you are consumed, like ash. Come and play my game.

You have taught me well.

I only feel like this on the grandiose days. The others I doubt it is raining at all.

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