Tear me down and build me back up, but this time build me strong.
I only want to tear each letter out with my fingernails and rip all the words away.
My frowning is getting worse, I can tell because the lines on my face are looking more prominent.
Its never going to warm up in here, not today, not for a few days, my fingertips and bones will have to suffer.
Screaming seems like a solution.
I CAN’T WRITE ANY MORE NOTES
If I do ever return to them and read what I have written, they won’t even make any sense.
So really my notes are pointless.
The act of note taking is really me pretending to myself that I’m being productive, that I am getting organised, but the more the notes pile up, the less I can face them.
No Roller Skating Allowed
I was confused as I peeled my face off the floor, I didn’t know if the blood was dripping from my nose or my mouth. I watched the blood droplets hit the floor in quick motion and survival mode started to kick in, I found tissues to hold to my face whilst simultaneously wiping the evidence from the floor.
I ring Mat, but no answer; I ring again, still no answer. Even if Mat gets to the studio, there’s no way I’m getting down 3 flights of stairs in roller skates to unlock the door. My head is pounding and I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but my fingers manage to fumble with the double-knotted triple wrapped around laces. I’ve done it, my feet are free from the wheels, I stumble to the toilet to check my face in the mirror. I forget there is no mirror in here.
My phone hasn’t rang. Mat isn’t coming. I need to make it home. I pull my coat and my shoes on. Switch off the heaters and turn the light off. I’m at the front door and I’m staring at the alarm system I use everyday but now I can’t fathom how it works. Fuck it, I leave and lock the door behind me.
‘Mattttt’ I shout. I‘ve made it home. The next 15 minutes still remain a blur as I come around sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, holding a fresh tissue to my face and tears rolling down my cheeks.
‘I’m really confused, I don’t know what’s happening’
‘Have you been roller skating in your studio?’
‘I think so’
‘You said this morning, you were going to roller skate in your studio’
‘Right that’s it, your not allowed to roller skate in your studio anymore, the studio is for working not roller skating’
‘But I was having a really good time, I was practicing the Mohawk turn.’
Words turn to black marks
And the waves of emptiness crash into me
Numb with emptiness
Anxiety emanates from my fingers
And my face cannot break
A lump in my throat
An ache in my back
I feel sick to my stomach
Sugar coated bubble gum milk bottles
A pound a bag from the k market
I rub my eyes with my thumb and middle finger
Or to be more precise I put pressure on the eyeballs
My thumb has my right eye
My finger the left eye
Starting at the outer edges of each eye
I draw thumb and finger across the eyes
To meet at the bridge of my nose
The eyes are weary
Tired and sting a little
It’s all the soot
Down from the ceiling
The soot sifts down
And finds all the crevasses
the world is a much quieter place now
I can hear the birds chirp more clearly
and yet contained
people seem less friendly
not even a smile as I pass by
instead of smiles
looks of disgust
with no real reason as to why
it will soon feel like
the early hours
an extension of the quiet
and the void
just the crows
written Thursday 19th March 2020