What am I doing? Something smells. My stomach tries to curling up to become the extended arm of my intenstines. It tugs my heart down. My heart is sinking and something smells. Pry open my mouth, a half a half a half a half spoon of rice. Plastic. My stomach can’t stomach it. They devour it so easily but my throat is clogged. Is my heart sinking or is it floating up to my throat? I can hear it throbbing. Listentoyourheart, she said, whereisyourheart, he asked. Not here. Not here. I couldn’t find it. I left the ashes of it I could find in Maine. I’m saving a vial of what I can muster to find these days and trusting postage stamps to get it to you. My heart is burnt. My heart is throbbing. My heart is in my throat. My heart is sinking. Where is it? Where is it? It is breaking. Are the people devouring this plastic rice deaf? Can they not hear the shattering? It hurts. I’m nauseous, something’s rotting. Something smells. Am I in Denmark? Am I Denmark? Is my heart rotting? Am I rotting? What am I doing?
I was on my way to go exercise but then I walked through the kitchen and got a slice of pizza and now I’m sitting here talking to you guys.
Patricia March is a Spanish artist based in Valencia, for whom the time is something like water that erodes and destroys the form while new ones are building. Like the rain, time is cyclic. In March’s drawings, there is a double reading, one from left to right and the other from right to left. The characters seem dominated by water movement, while resurfacing. That’s how artist perceives the time, and she uses the paper polyester, which allows her to perform these washes and erosion.
what i never
from my mother
just because someone desires you
not mean they value you.
desire is the kind of thing that
leaves you starving.
can’t donate eggs until i’m 21 welp
sara tavares ft. ana moura | de nua
Comme des Garçons “If you reach the border”Can I tell you exactly how I know you
Are you listening to what I’m not saying
Is there silence when the music is playing
Are you breaking the pipe, are you busting out the tears
Have you been half a story for too many years
Can you tell me something I’ve never seen
Can you become the one I’ve never been
Are you living on the money or are you full of shit today
Are you learning about human relations
Are you earning some hard information
Are you hearing something you have never heard before
Tell me am I making sense
Shall I describe the person I died in
Are you living a lie where thinking is king
When you look into my eyes tell me
Are you looking right at you are when you’re looking right at me
If you reach the border would you step across
Will you ever find what you never ever lost
Tell me am I making sense
Bharti Kher, Dead Ruler, 2008, fiberglass, mixed media, 40 1/2 x 65 x 65 inches / 103 x 165 x 165 cm
you broke the ocean in
half to be here
only to meet nothing that wants you.
“Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth”
Enrico Olia. Manager’s Portrait 4. Acrylic on canvas.