itesser ink: progress, uncensored

I'm not feeling like myself, but instead of the normal formula of not feeling like myself (which, I suppose, is more like the part-time version of feeling like myself), it's an off-brand concoction, unfamiliar. Compressed and oppressed in so many cliche ways. Time ripples through my days in an illusory way; I have no sense of chrono-depth perception, and can't tell how fast I travel.

C'est la vie.

I feel like I got something done today, but for the life of me can't tell you what. Three hours were spent at an acquaintance's home playing board games. That was fun, but not what I'm thinking of.

Rare Moment Alone

carpet grinds into elbows
teeth grind each other flat
sweaty palms hold
heavy head

drip, the faucet
chirp, the black-headed grosbeak
drone of trucks
matching drone of fans

cramped and bloodless legs
hunched, unsanctioned lotus
an unexpected
meditation

Cheetalope:



Cribbed off photos more than usual.

I prefer the (mental) image of deer antlers, but it doesn't especially fit the setting. And they're harder to draw. :X

Labels: blarg, cheetalope, digital work, poem