Occasionally I do things
Because I want to give another person my preconceived idea of the experience of it – it’s purely selfish.
Rarely am I able to confirm
How they actually perceive me
I just see them and I
Through my eyes
Letting all the images seethe in
And only upon recollection try to generate some understanding

Currently I’m having a panic attack
I go up to get some water.
–
I mean what, she caught me in one of those moods
You know, to spend
Show myself some damn reward
Because
Man I go through through the wars for this
It’s not worth it
Wearing these garments at my chest
And then putting it through all silly shit
– still having the episode
– settling

(First 4 hours worn, only went and spilled some carbonara sauce down the front, joke.)

Today I met an artist
They were hosting a solo show in a refurbished studio,

east facing windows the spring bulbs were on
Lights off & cloud filtered sun
soaking into the [arches; canson;?] paper which hot ink had been pressed on

Print works done in carefully hand woven layers, gently overlapping, their framed collisions like the seams of a chromatically homologous skeleton
from which every flexing stroke of muscle, vessel & ligament seemed to flow
– the pieces respiring

the energy poured into their creation, to liven them, was evident
the selected colour compositions
Like organs, a throbbing extension of some driven intention by this individual to represent – someone

The tissue i invested in:
Mixed cadmium coming to the flavour of red
intersected
By a masi ink purposefully diluted and washed upwards towards a bloody moon
Howling across a landscape starred in window glow & rooftops, rolling into the horizon
Momentarily frozen
In the loose grace of lost control

Was it a werewolf or the Horror of Dunwich?
Or just a person overcome with relinquish

– settled