stella was a diver and she's always down

by Rachel Lynch in


gallery girl in the arms of a film noir charachter, I want to paint in nothing but wedge heels, gold rings and a towering head-dress.

La La La, I'll drive you to freedom. Just a little motorcycle ride on the way back from the dark side. Out all night, I've hardly had a breath to myself. Kickstand and midnight kisses, under the influence of my surroundings. My apartment sounds and feels like the whiskey barrel was in Willamsburg.

10 am like electricity, breath of wine, the male factor. when I grow up, I'm sure I'll enjoy sex in the spare bedroom. I lose my mind and expose my bones. Walking around naked my apartment, windows blowing in the city's smoke. I'm happy to be in a place of my own. Drinking organe juice from a red glass cup and using a zebra blanket as clothing. Pulp in my body and the fiction I read.

I am painting, referencing the gallery of my mind. Here, I will pull from the red and the blue, they mix to make the purple of my insides. I'm working on a piece of a child in the womb, natural is life.

My yellow phone rings, I grab my blanket to wear as a robe and run to the phone. Paint is on my fingers and cheeks as I smile at who it is. Upon hanging up, I drop my head-dress and the silly games of this place. I get into a grey tank dress, black boots and my motorcycle jacket. It's out into the wild for me again tonight, I'm leaving the playland in my head at home.