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burning all the photographs i'm in

by flores

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1.
i'm scared they'll devour me, so I'll devour myself 04:12
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I never wanted so desperately to be somebody else.
2.
when we were kids we believed in forever 04:10
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(Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem and he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dog and that's what it was all about his teacher gave him an A and a gold star and his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts. that was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo and he let them sing on the bus and his little sister was born with tiny nails and no hair and his mother and father kissed a lot and the girl around the corner sent him a valentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meant and his father always tucked him in bed at night and was always there to do it once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season and that's what it was all about and his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of the new paint and the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars and left butts on the pews and sometime they would burn holes that was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames and the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Claus and the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot and his father never tucked him in bed at night and his father got mad when he cried for him to do it) once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem and he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girl and that's what it was all about and his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her that was the year Father Tracy died and he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed went and he caught his sister making out on the back porch and his mother and father never kissed or even talked and the girl around the corner wore too much make up that made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because it was the thing to do and at 3 am he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundly that's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem and he called it "Absolutely Nothing" because that's what it was really all about and he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist and he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen
3.
6:02 am, hopelessness & fragments 05:51
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A world with nothing in it? A world with nobody in it? A world of freedom. Freedom? It's a world of freedom where there's nothing restricting you. This is freedom? Yes, a world of freedom. But in exchange, there's nothing. As long as i don't think of anything? Yes, as long as you don't think of anything. But I don't know what I should do. You're insecure, aren't you? You don't have an image of yourself, do you? It's all just too vague. A world where there is nothing solid enough to grab onto... But you're insecure, aren't you? What should I do? This is a space with nothing in it. A world with nothing in it. A world that has nothing else in it, except me. I'm losing my grasp on who I am. I feel like I'm disappearing. The existence that is me is vanishing. (Why?) Because you are the only one here. Because I'm the only one? Because without the existence of things other than yourself, you cannot know your own shape. My own shape? (My image of me?) Yes, you know your own shape through seeing how other people are shaped. By looking at the barrier between you and other people you visualize your own shape. You cannot see yourself unless there are other people. I can exist because there are other people around! If I'm alone, I'll always be alone, no matter how far I go with it! All the world would just be me! By recognizing the differences between yourself and others, you shape who you are. The very first person is your mother. Your mother is a person separate from you. Right, I'm me. But it's also certain that the other people shape my mind as well! That's right.

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artwork by Camill Barrales R.

camilabarrales.tumblr.com

www.flickr.com/photos/avadore/

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released August 28, 2016

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flores Patras, Greece

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