20.8.17




If it aint Medusa Ill eat my fuckin hat(dont wear a hat so thats an empty threat – dont let that distrack you -- Im all about threats  I can take em  an make em)   

its cumbersome 
         Medusa on the floor  though she averts her gazeher withering-stone gaze while her head of snakes coil an twine snarl an hiss

I irritate them
           an they seem irritated with her that she doesnt or wont fulfill her  her wha    her taskher predilection 
if she doesnt feel it why should she

obviously I would be on her side(if she has sides)  you wouldnt think their protests coming up out of the ochre-tiled bathroom floor could be incendiary or threatening  but they are  their threats roll up my pant legs shiver an prickle my skin an I cant help but wonder why Medusa doesnt lift her headlook up at me with her eyes  stricken me
but I cantI wont look away   

I am aware as I mop the floor time an time again since Ive recognised her visage that her threat remains  that she could easily in an abrupt moment lift her eyes an fix meice me transfigure me into stone  a cheap way to become statuary no Michelangelo wiping his brow in the humid Mediterranean heat sweatingsuffering his hammer blowsangry bits of broken marble biting him   


I understand her despairher loathsomeness  she married Poseidon and infuriated Athena and Athena a greater goddess condemned Medusa to her monstrous life  a lifean adoration begat in love 

love can do that


love can be everything you never imagined  and then in its worse connotations or infliction 

you wouldnt think so
                 your idealism doesnt allow you to think so
but who is truly thinking when first falling in love who has the capacity to annihilate the tender colourful blossom of love with the black blade of reason  rationale

we dont think love has chains  or bitter lashes
                                  it isnt dark  consumptive   demoralising

perhaps thats why Medusa doesnt render me 

her physicality complexion dont put me off  or do I abhor her   she seems to recognise my compassion


thin ice?
         I hope not

1919,  Friday,  18  8. 17
1531,  Sunday,  20  8. 17
Seven Mary Three  Cumbersome  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjNn4bbbgSw