static television

January is smaller than she’s ever been. Just a small
golden light in my peripheral. My head is wrapped in
cotton, but then there’s the sun, telling me I can’t sit
another year out. My ghosts are dead so I’m going into
this clear-eyed and weightless. January comes with the
hope for sugar and syrup, no more of the watered down
spoonfuls I’ve gotten the past eight months. As the heat
settles in, I wait to see if this means I’ll bloom or curdle
this year. January brings my insides to the edge of my
skin, braces them to jump. It’s been so long since I’ve
known solid ground. January is just a blurry figment
right now, static on the television. A ringing in my
ears. The countdown starts and the sky lights up.
January pitches her voice over the noise: last year’s
ghosts are dead, that’s reason enough to celebrate.

anti is the soft humming of static from an old television set, blurry street lights and cool breezes, he’s sharp dull pains, old radio songs you haven’t heard in years combined with feelings of nostalgic existential dread, knowing that you’re getting old and slowly losing control of your life

dark is the bitter taste of cigarette smoke, a starry night’s sky, old homemade vhs tapes, and the sound of a record stuck on repeat. he’s that friend you both hate and love, the thorn on the rose, and that moment when your favourite song ends and you’re left in silence, the feeling that you’re always going to be alone and that things won’t ever change

some hobbies

• casual dissociation
• extreme dissociation
• rum & cola
• avoiding
• not feeling anything
• feeling everything
• feeling nothing and everything at the same time (intensely)
• melting
• sitting in a cauldron of my own bubbling disorders and illnesses
• TV static
• headaches
• Astral projection and general witchery