Spiders…

..have laid eggs in my neck just under my chin, and they hatched and have made their way into my throat, there’s really no other explanation for the way i feel. if i sneeze they’ll fly everywhere, floating on romantic gossamer threads, or if i open my mouth too wide they’ll run out, bridging the gap betwen my tongue and stomach with one little hop before scattering – or perhaps turning around very abruptly and rushing right back i, under my fingernails, into my ears…..

give me cold pills and a sitter. i need to lie down and focus on tilting my head back so there’s room to breathe through the knot of spiders in my esophagus.

in something completely different, i think i get to do something really cool and subversive, providing i don’t fuck it up by continuing to miss phone calls. i BELIEVE i have the wolf role in a Red Riding Hood shoot with Tim Kruskamp AKA Silent Shudder Photography - and either way, look at some of this shit, it’s incredible. here’s some free advertising for ya, to all 2 of the poeple who look at this blog:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=3086&id=1670857817

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photos.php?id=1670857817

 photo by Tim Kruskamp

   Silent Shudder Photography

  pictured: Serina Ruggeri

“Vincent” by Tim Burton

Vincent Malloy is seven years old,
He’s always polite and does what he’s told.

For a boy his age he’s considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.

He doesn’t mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he’d rather share a home with spiders and bats.

There he could reflect on the horrors he’s invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.

Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.

He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.

So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.

His thoughts aren’t only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.

While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent’s favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.

One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.

Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.

He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother’s flower bed.

His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he’d been banished to the tower of doom.

Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.

While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent’s mother suddenly burst into the room.

“If you want to you can go outside and play.
It’s sunny outside and a beautiful day.”

Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn’t speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.

So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
“I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again.”

His mother said, “You’re not possessed, and you’re not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.

You’re not Vincent Price, you’re Vincent Malloy.
You’re not tormented, you’re just a young boy.”

“You’re seven years old, and you’re my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun.”

Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.

The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.

He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.

She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.

Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.

To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.

His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,

“And my soul from out that shadow floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted –Nevermore!”

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 34 other followers