I don't lose much blood. A few grams. I can hear the sound of divine music washing over my head as I lose the weight. I touch rapture and transcendence. I am not often peaceful. This is not a pain. This is release. I do not hate myself. I am in love with my self. Only for an hour.
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Action 4
I sit with my arms in front of me and my legs crossed. I have a spike. I made the spike earlier. I ground a fork down until it became a lovely spike. I trace thin red cuts on my arms and let the exposed blood run gently down to my hands. The spike does not look bloody. At the end of my arms there is a bowl that I have filled with cream. My blood slowly and carefully pours into the cream. The white and red look good together. I wish that it was other parts of me with the cream.
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5 comments:
i make a beautiful painting of your arms in front of you and your legs crossed, bowl of cream, spiraled with red, sitting between your crossed legs like a gentle babe.
I sell it for $333.00 from the wall of my corner cafe, where the price of a croissant and a cup of coffee is, coincidentally, $3.33 with tax.
When I put the money into my pocket, I think, for a second, how I should probably share it with you for providing the inspiration, but get lost with the whole converting to pounds thing, see a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a while and then the thought gets lost as I move into the sudden conversation.
Later, I will spend the money on a whore with huge black titties and a vagina like a vice.
I feel like I have been spoilt with this long, detailed and nice response.
Thankyou old buddy old pal.
the next night we ate whale
Ryan? Whales?
Socrates I am a huge admirer of everything you do and this just typifies your greatness.
I really liked this.
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