Friday, November 27, 2009

hospital blues.

dress, Givenchy. window, Catalena's

standing in front of the class, supposed to hold a speech about World War II. images of loose body parts flash before my eyes; images of a war my grandfather told me so much about.
I know it all; how he'd piss all over Jewish corpses; how he'd shoot them right between the eyes.

suddenly an Arado bomber plane flies across the troubled skies outside our classroom windows and below it Hitler has gathered his cold army - they salute him. years later they'll swear never to do it again, but have no idea history will always come to repeat itself.
the Arado crashes on the school yard. I realize it's just a car backfiring, but it's too late; I'm already shaking. the epilepsy's back. I'm on the floor, head on the threshold with blood creating a morbid halo. I'm shaking. twenty-nine pair of young eyes watch me carefully. they've paid for a freak show and they'll expect to see the star.


  1. thank you for the ever so sweet comment x

  2. wow, you're such a writer chica. "blood creating a morbid halo"
    you're one of those rare species


  3. very poignant. i love the photo above.

    btw are you a writer?

    I Am Denise Katipunera

  4. well, I do write -does that make me a writer?
    all I could ever do was to express myself in words and images. some people are better at the social part, at being ordinary people, at interacting with other.... humans. I never had that.

  5. If i could write like that i'd rather it way more than being good at being social, interacting or whatever. i've read lots of your posts and ur writing really evokes feeling its amazing.. im definitely following.
    thankyou for your comment on my blog. x

  6. wow. this is deep aurora. I'm so sorry.

  7. Excellent piece you have written here!