thoughts on writing + photography

she continues only because it has been too long and she wishes not to forget the mannerisms and mechanisms associated with the very task that sustains her, somehow, despite all the crowing and the flying about maniacally in lucid dreams and fervent daydreamful invitations.

exhale.

she continues further for she enjoys squinting her eyes and witnessing herself unrecognise her own voice. who is this automaton grabbing at my arm and pushing the fingers up close and personal onto this grey matter from which black is spewed?

minutes go by and still you are in the same position;
your mind runs and runs and breathes short, lifeless gasps.
your feet are engraved onto the silk carpet.

there is no pacing of the self when pause is all there is to it.

(by meryem yildiz)