opening the cage
my wings were attempting to stretch out, but how is this possible when they're bigger than the cage i keep them in?
surrounded by metal, my words stumbled over themselves in hopes of being heard. Trapped inside this cage of wire, i lost them before they ever lived.

the idea was pitched to me by my lovely roommate, not too long ago, that i may have got a double lip-ring piercing on my teeny tiny lips as a form of caging. protection to keep people out, even though i so badly wanted someone in. lock stock and smoking barrels pointing straight at you, point-blank range. She once had a spike in her face - retaliation against the world of people. I thought i had done this out of curiosity, and for the experience, and so that spot on my lip would stop itching and screaming "pierce me." This will be the last. The days with haunting voices screaming "shave your head and remove your piercings!" wont' stop this time around. Will i come back from victoria naked?

I feel slightly off-balance in the mouthal area. A few months spent playing with the jewelery and eating/talking around them (even if ever so slightly)... have formed habbits. My words are choppy.

It rained today. It was cold but i didn't care.
water.
water.
water.
flame.







edit: my eyes are so empty in these pictures. when i look back, just two or three years, i see so much more. there is so much in the way, it's clear that i must absolve myself of what/who i was before i can before what/who i am.