screenwriting class last night etc. (i presented my work and we talked about it like whole class)
I felt so alive. The characters were so alive. The possibilities were an endless dream. Everything came to life. And I was so high and I never wanted to come down. And nothing else mattered. And I didn’t need anybody. And I wasn’t thinking about anybody. And all my desires were just life on a page, life I could breathe in. I needed the characters. they were the blood, the breath. and i was thriving on the attention. and i had a voice and i was heard, and seen. i was not the ghost of the break haunting the deli a foot behind everyone else, listening to bits of their conversation, standing away and observing. i was not the mystery i craved to be. i was there. i was still whispering, but they heard me. they heard me. one of them spoke to me and i awkwardly smiled and he said “your problem is you have too many ideas. i should be lucky to have such a problem. you have like eight screen plays in there.”
my inner life was bleeding on the pages and they were sucking down my blood like vampires and i thought, “yes, get fat on me”.
and in the cab coming home i was so high that i knew i could only come DOWN and i was writing poems in my head and they were about balms and bliss and moon kissed street lights blurring by and i was the constellation, i was the sky.
and then i came home and i fell and fell because what else is there to do?
and my falling empty was seeping out and i was infecting people like a poison, my bad blood the leeches had left behind, onto you, into you.
and i could feel the life seeping out of me and the bad mood setting in.
and the three screenplays to critique and the appeal to rewrite and i wanted life to go back to the place where nothing was real but that moment.
that moment that had nothing to do with the desiring of other people, or love or crushes or relationships.
just me. happy on my own. just me, being enough. or feeling like enough in and of myself.
but here i am again...
I Need:
i need an intoxicated rush
i need a cigarette kiss
i need some promise
of some imaginary bliss
i need some mystery
i need some stars
to not be obscured by my smog
i need a swoon, i need a snog
i need a breath of life
or a taste of fresh virgin blood
craving that adrenaline flood
“you can rush in so hard and
make it so i can’t breathe
you know i breathe too much anyway
i can do that any day....” - ani-ness
my inner life was bleeding on the pages and they were sucking down my blood like vampires and i thought, “yes, get fat on me”.
and in the cab coming home i was so high that i knew i could only come DOWN and i was writing poems in my head and they were about balms and bliss and moon kissed street lights blurring by and i was the constellation, i was the sky.
and then i came home and i fell and fell because what else is there to do?
and my falling empty was seeping out and i was infecting people like a poison, my bad blood the leeches had left behind, onto you, into you.
and i could feel the life seeping out of me and the bad mood setting in.
and the three screenplays to critique and the appeal to rewrite and i wanted life to go back to the place where nothing was real but that moment.
that moment that had nothing to do with the desiring of other people, or love or crushes or relationships.
just me. happy on my own. just me, being enough. or feeling like enough in and of myself.
but here i am again...
I Need:
i need an intoxicated rush
i need a cigarette kiss
i need some promise
of some imaginary bliss
i need some mystery
i need some stars
to not be obscured by my smog
i need a swoon, i need a snog
i need a breath of life
or a taste of fresh virgin blood
craving that adrenaline flood
“you can rush in so hard and
make it so i can’t breathe
you know i breathe too much anyway
i can do that any day....” - ani-ness