The Chinese Lady.

The smell of her lipstick

Along the brittle porcelain;

Is a taste that can break,

Like redolence on the tongue.

But, spit it all out.

Because it cuts deep,

And it hurts further down.

There she is!

The Chinese lady,

With her sanguine smile.

And her sultry corselette.

The poison in her silk.


Yawn yawn yawn yawn. I have been sleeping for the past 7 days straight. I wake up at weird hours, eat to my heart's content, and go back to sleep for the next 12 hours again. Ignoring missed calls and on-line messages, because i cannot tell reality apart from dreams anymore. Dirty plates splatter around my bed, along with empty bottles of peanut butter and cartons of milk.

There is this profound disorientation within me right now. And, it feels amazing not to know what date or day it is anymore.

^^