Life is waiting for to begin again. My hands want it and my heart needs it.
I have been trying to figure out the best way to say this for the last two days. My cat who I loved very much died of Friday. It was hard and awful and scaring. She was a sweet furry monster and I loved her in addition to all those things. I find my self looking for her out of the counter of my eye and not taking steps backward because I worry she is under foot.
She had this funny thing she could do of being where ever she wanted to be without you knowing. Behind, under, infant, on top of doors, she was everywhere.
Nothing will ever feel the same without her around. Sitting in chairs is sad and kind of boring. She had this way of fucking with the sides of chairs to the point where she would come sit on you to sleep and it was wonderful. She loved belly rubs for 4 second stints. Her tail was in favorite foil and she liked to take naps in bathtubs.
Life can really be a mother fucker but you survive it.
I don’t know how to honor Goose in this. I love and cherish all she was and hope she will find me in the next life when we are both cats.
Love you baby Goose.
Strange time of sins the land of time and sand dollars. Neither with pay for 7 11 coffee cups. The art will be running late in 2018…no hearts broken in the ink.
Registers of muchness living in the gum to the mind.
I made a discord site….I guess it could be called. So since everyone who comes here is from everywhere… you can now interact and see fun things I’m working on with my processes.
Paint, medicate …sleep…E dificil pra caramba
A million moments in one night.
Friends of friends of friends of lovers. The empty is the moment the bag hits the floor and the door closes to the night. Hard pressed to see more than the seconds of running, smiling and the little deaths. Teens on Halloween, the parties, the drugs, the troubles and the makeup on banisters. Midsize red and white finger paint on lips and clothings.
Her smirk is the open books that say everything and then nothing all at once. Her costume is the run on sentence of the mind’s eye.
Mars the phenomenal.
Little of me remembers that years smells but the touch of the cold on the tops of my arms is an unshakeable souls shiver. The parts that make all I run into mentally a cliff edge.
Long live the hearts.