29 April 2009
25 April 2009
overcoming nausea (an ode to jean-paul)
i am alone.
i am entirely alone. i rely on no one for nothing and if you were to ask me, in this moment, if i am okay, i would open my mouth. and what would i be surprised to hear if it was anything but an outpouring of white noise. static from another dimension, channeling itself through me.
i am a vessel.
i am entirely a vessel. i am simply the transmission of ideas my mind pulls from the air as antennae. no thought is my own. i am in flux, all is derived from the elements. all is an abstraction, a derivative. all is beautiful, so consummatingly beautiful.
i am beautiful.
i am entirely beautiful. i have ten fingers for reaching. i have two pupils that dilate in the light, and strong legs that carry me away. i have a brain that can out beat my legs in carrying me away. i have a brain that out beats even my own heart.
i am a heart.
i am entirely a heart. i beat increasingly less with each ephemeral breath. here i know nothing. i cannot surrender myself. i am inhibited and in actuality i do not believe in surrender but the opposite. a fade from black to grey or from white.
i am grey.
i am entirely grey. i do not think in spectral terms. i am a colorless entity. i am an entity that is colorless and therefore i think about you in terms you cannot understand. explanation would be superfluous in this world of heather. explanation would be superfluous in this world defined solely through meaningless explanation.
i am meaningless.
i am entirely meaningless. i am infused with so much meaning that i have been reverted back to primordia. the lord has basted too much into me. too much reliance, too much belief. i am supersaturated, bloated with thoughts. i am bloated with the sheer prospect of bloating itself. too much salt, they tell me.
erin mulvehill // 2009
24 April 2009
21 April 2009
20 April 2009
19 April 2009
18 April 2009
15 April 2009
13 April 2009
if i could, i would lean forward and with delicate and extreme care i would brush my lips on the very center of your cognition. ever so slightly i would kiss the part where right meets left.
if i could, i would watch with delicate and extreme care what effect this had on the circuits. im not sure i would want to know, but i think i would, for honestys sake. as your upper incarnates sit overturned on the table beside us like a soup bowl begging for sustenance, i will take you by the shoulders with delicate and extreme care and look straight into your cerulean quicksand eyes.
upon meeting your gaze, with one quick sweeping motion i will yank open my own skull and, leaning over you ever so delicately and ever so carefully, i will pour everything that exists inside of me into you. and for those seconds as that murky viscose liquid transposes from me to you i will probably feel like we are one. (and i am sorry if, with delicate and extreme care, i nod my head as if to say 'i understand' as i shake out each drop).
awake, taking your hands in mine as the last drops disperse, i fall, vacant and empty into your lap. a hollow sound resonates in my ears, deafening like the silence under water, absent of calm. i muster energy to turn over, in attempts to get one last look at your face. you free your hands of mine and reach over to the table, unscathed. and with delicate and extreme care you lift your skull and your flesh back up to its altar. i realize your eyes have not moved from their gaze on the wall and i can think no more. everything has been surrendered to you. i try to reach up to touch your face one last time. you look down, i fall, into the quicksand.
// erin mulvehill
(ive started writing again)
12 April 2009
11 April 2009
a few thesis photos from children in colombo, sri lanka
ive been working on my thesis a whole lot the past few days. im in awe of how children see the world so clearly through an untainted lens. looking at their photos + reading what they have to say is a true spiritual cleansing. i am thankful.