It’s a remarkably light work week, but my mind is in a million places at once and my heart is with those who have never felt farther away.
I give myself five days to forget you.
on the first day I rust.
on the second I wilt.
on the third day I sit with friends but I think about your tongue.
I clean my room on the fourth day. I clean my body on the fourth day.
I try to replace your scent on the fourth day.
the fifth day, I adorn myself like the mouth of an inmate.
A wedding singer dressed in borrowed gold.
The midas of cheap metal.
tinsel in the middle of summer.
crevice glitter, two days after the party.
I glow the way unwanted things do,
a neon sign that reads;
come, I still taste like someone else’s mouth.— Warsan Shire
Gagarin (1976) Aeschylean Drama. p. 92-3. (via thislittleworld-of-mine)
Sure this is a little oversimplified, but this play is perfection and I still have Clytemnestra feelings, so I’m just going to go ahead and post it anyways.
today I sat on the roof in the sun and painted my nails like a melting cake, as if I were a housewife in some strange, dystopian 1950s world
Important detail: how the hell did you get on the roof??