If me and Anais Nin were friends

I wish you'd forgotten Sunday
And cracked the glass of
The gilt picture frame
Depicting you; seven, red ribbon
Bruised knees.

Reflecting me, old, dungarees,
Shit taste.

I wish you'd cut your hair so short
That I could feel all the knobbles of your skull
And imagine how your smelled
Whilst we muddled through
Tripping over feigned cool

Clenched fingers at Communist rallies
"Statement" art: glitter glued condoms,
leopard skin and desecrated Manet prints

I don't know what kind of statement we were trying to make.

How I would like to go

It tasted like good wine
As he rolled it over his tongue
Inscrutable experience stood to attention
And dug its trenches within the lines of his face

Remembering the name of our mistakes
The candelabra and her grandfather clock

The lake glowed pink under a renaissance sky
Over lowered shoulders and shaking hands
With unstoppable, indomitable courage
It was coming

2 minute writing exercise - 22:32pm

You can't connect the dots
Because you have forgotten Sunday
You are that papered ribbon of a moment
When you wake up and forget who you are.

And the coffee-scented sunrise catching his dusty eyelids
Doesn't make the breath catch in your throat
Any more. The imagery's turned stale.
Your camera's out of film.

Musings

Last night's eyeliner game still going strong? Check. Unquenchable thirst and questionable memories of the night before? Check. Hangover? Check. My face this morning was a mass of contradictions, on the one hand my eyes and lips looked as perfectly made up as they had when I went out, whilst my face was dry, patchy and flaky - I looked like a surrealist painting or something (OR a cheap hooker, but I prefer the painting simile). But contradictions, that got me thinking.  

"We value permanence in impermanence and impermanence in permanence nowadays" I mused as I helped myself to orange juice at my friend's house this morning - essentially worshipping sleep yet forever being the first person up. And as deep and pseudo-philosophical as that may sound, I think I was onto something. We're constantly looking for things to last longer, nights out, eyeliner, orgasms, there's a perpetual fear of life going by so quickly that we're afraid it could always bypass us without us realising. However, how many people are continually racing forwards towards the weekend or the next payday or the summer holidays without stopping to consider that right here, can actually be pretty good as well. Yeah you might have work spilling over from desk to floor to bed and a spot may have appeared in the most inconspicuous of places the day you have a date but what about today when you laughed so hard you thought you were gonna throw up and the lady you see every morning at the bus stop bought you a Diet Coke. 

 I'm trying not to run the risk of sounding like a self-help book or a John Green novel by saying everyone should appreciate the little things more but perhaps people should depreciate when it comes to expectations. I'm doing a little experiment right now where I try my hardest to avoid having expectations so that I can appreciate things for what they are and not for what I thought they were going to be. Let's see how it goes.