one handed bandit

stumbling around on my old computer at home and found this. the only picture not cleaned out by my mom and i. i have no idea of the story behind it, when it was created, or by who.


i want more fonts.

life is a circus and so we are small.

Timing is everything in this fight.

thickening in around me, blanketing me.

The weakness.

see nothing has changed.
Istill rocking back and forth with sodden eyes.
everything is exactly.
The.
Same.

And I break.

I break again and again and again.

hurl

to opposite corners of the room.

one by one, they come back. Creeping. Slithering.




respective places.

stick to me

loose count

All my control. I squeeze myself together,

stay connected.

pick up to hang up.

Faulty machine.
The messages build and build, accumulating.

One thick ball of force.

I tuck them away, file them deep.
I try to put them to bed,
so I can get back to the world,

get some sleep at night.

But they won’t lay down.
I try to put them to bed,
and I’ nothing but sweet to them;








like a mother,










I give them a story.
Read it start to finish,
beginning to end.
We say our prayers,
I tuck them in.
give them a lullaby.
Kiss them goodnight.
But they refuse to rest.

So I won’t either.

I’ll stay awake, in this world.

Forever feeling their pulse, mixing to mine. I’m tainted, cursed. Forever tied.

when he walks in to a room, walls lean in to listen.

troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match, what a catch.

favorite^

i don't just want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness.

guess we'll make it, regardless if they want us too or not.

dear internet,

you're usually slow, i appreciate when you're lively. try to keep it up.

dear drawing,

hannah really hates you. you shouldn't make her so upset, because then she's crabby.

dear wellness center,

i'll keep coming...for now.

dear weather,

i know it's wrong, but i want it all to melt, even if that means flood. i just don't want to be cold anymore.

dear you,

www.clairefiedler.com

i'm back.

cats piss on magazines.

do you think it's possible to feel words?

i don't mean feelings that are words. i mean words.

the actual letters.

letters. and letters. spaces. word. space. word. space. word. period.

do you think it's possible? to feel them?

i can feel them.

i see them and feel them.

i read them, and i feel them.

they blanket over me. painting pictures over scenes i already see.

the words fall over what's really there.

word after word.

letter. and more letters. space. word. space. word. space. word. period.

slopping and dripping, over all that i should see. making a mess of everything.

all i see are words. they overlap and mix together.

till i'm not sure what are words and what is actually real.

and you know, i don't mind at all.