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emma lee

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first book [Jun. 21st, 2007|04:32 pm]
emma lee

early this afternoon i did my routine. i started checking the locks and opened the windows. when it was quietest i walked down the hall and made my first right turn into the bathroom, my haven. it's the smallest room in the house, with no windows and a big mirror. i look into the mirror as i would gaze at a lake or ocean. it communicates to me as a body of water would. i became naked as i watched her in the lake pulling the curtain back. my afternoon showers are of little substance. i lie in the tub and hear the droplets fall. from outside the shower it sounds like a din - that's not the sound i'm describing - it's not the sound you recall. it's the sound you see and smell. while i lay in the tub as the water pours down on me i realize i'm synasthaetic. 3 is benevolent, 17 is adored, 2 is depressing. 3 is blue-green, 17 is red-green, and 2 is generally fucked up. 17 is scruffy, like quarter inch long hair that gets whacked and scraped and waxed on a routine basis. 3 is smooth and round, tastes like a sweet tart, has the dimensions of plain lay's potato chip, becomes steak in your teeth, and smells like frangipangi. i stop myself from exploring this subject further because nothing but anxiety is the result. so i inhale the mist, and put my hand underwater in the pool i've gathered between my face, abdomen, and thigh. i focus on the clarity and transparency of the droplets on the tubside.

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