I ate the constraint. It tasted beige. It tasted ancient. I hated the facelift on the horse. I hated making statements. I aged. I wagered against myself. I melted a book and drew what I saw. I ate my drawing and knew I’d turn star. I ate and I ate and my constraint never weaponized a territory. Never carried me on its back. Never laughed at my jokes. Never surrendered and then forever surrendered to the days and the grays and the caverns that vanished ahead.
On a Date Mid-Play
in conversation with Larry Fagin
I had a panic attack while splitting up with my last partner. I had to step outside. I had to find the wind. She brought paper and pen and said to write my feelings. I wrote, I’m leaving. She peeled back her knee caps and fed me dry skin. I wrote down, It’s the end. She emptied the rat nest resting in my crotch. She scratched the mass where I couldn’t reach. I stared at the eggs. She stared at the page. I wrote, Hopeful play. She wrote, Hopeful day. It was morning. We were stoned.
Benjamin Niespodziany works nights in a library and sometimes he publishes interviews on his multimedia art blog [neonpajamas] and sometimes he does not.
image: “Ho Campus”: Jessica Dawn is a sometimes photographer, sometimes writer living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Find her on Twitter @JuskaJames