mouth sewn shut

So in the part that was supposed to include being like a music video the man on her doorstep has his mouth sewn shut.  Who knows maybe it’ll get cut, I just imagined it, all dramatically, and it’s such an undeniably effective image it’s exactly what many madmen through time have probably had their minds get hooked to, lots of pop culture to snag the hook along.  And then all this wojnarowicz stuff started happening and silence=death was everywhere I looked.  And I met someone who reminded me so much of someone I met at a dark club one night, she was wearing a trenchcoat and reeked, just so deep in her misery it upset me a lot, just this small conversation I had with her about her life, and then the other day I met someone and she said one word– I am remembering what the word is right now– a word like indelible (I’m lying here about the word)–and it hooked her to this other person from some anxious night, a miserable trenchcoat in the back of this cement room– the new person seeming so productive and not at all destroyed, no fair.  This is what happens when you think you’re onto something in fiction and in psychosis, very upsetting when the off-centered aspects of seeing relationships across things are prominent.  Instead of tip-toeing across floaty lily pads which is what can happen when it works.

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