Understimulate Me.

I've got the urge. That restless-fingered, half-lidded, soft and heavy kind of urge. I want to create something.

I've been itching here. Building up ideas. Building up desires. Biding my time.

It's now or never, world. Use me up, please. Take what I've got to give you. Once this is gone, there will be nothing left for a long time.

I'm hindered. I feel your bindings, they hold me back. I'd like to see you on the move. I'd like to see you put me in a cage, set me loose. Give me gold and diamonds, show me your poverty.

Mostly I want a wide open space. Somewhere I can spread my arms out wide. Something I can get up close too. Somewhere I can feel my wrists work. Somewhere my body will be free.

I want the colours. The red of a light. The ocher of a night sky. Green tar sands and the smooth, sapphire curves of your skin.

What are you doing, leaving me alone? I'm wasting away, and you're just letting me go.

Here I Stand (Shot 1)

I walk this beat everyday. I keep my eyes on the horizon and my chin cocked low. As my soles hit the pavement I feel the shock of my shoulders fighting back against the momentum of being free.
They keep me grounded, my head, my neck, my shoulders, my eyes. I keep it going, keep the thoughts moving. I think because it keeps me alive. But I swear, I think these thoughts are killing me.
There's only so much a body can take, I think. THe smoke and the smog, eventually it will fill your lungs and nostrils 'til you're breathing grey dust. That sun will bake the youth right out of you and the carcinogens right into you. Your eyes are stained with cataracts of too much pain, too much grey, dead concrete. But for now, you're coming back. You're always coming back for more.
The way the rain flows these days, you wouldn't think she's got anything to worry about. She's all angles and strides, lean and slope. But she keeps going to keep the world from catching up with her.