three point five years ago. was a world of solitude. hidden in the basement of a hundred year old house. world stripped to almost nothing. when you learn to survive. off of. old novels. a jar full of magnolias. turpentine. the morning newspaper.
nothing was consumed. except ideas. words. and the occasional martini and cigarette. thought the martini was mostly used for smoking and the cigarette for melting flesh. there was minx coats and orange silk. painted black eyes and beaten black eyes. ignored telephone calls and torn up letters. visitors crept up the walls. using all six legs. transients peered through the glass and the toad came to call at 4am. sunrise was champagne and sunset was endless cups of black coffee.
this is when you learned the most. what insides looked like. how burns heal. how the skeleton looks through skin. how time passes when passing doesn't matter.
thenyouopenyoureyesunderwatertakethecakeoutofthebathtubandwalkoutthedoorbreakthesurfaceandgetonthebus.
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