There at my throat back, venus fly trap sprouts.
Noticed when I woke to teeth grinding, my night ritual. But this time, a sour bug taste instead of iron grit. A buzzing glimmer, then My mouth zapped shut inside my mouth. Teeth under teeth. I pressed inside at long needles stabbing my finger, clamping down. Stinging blood on my prints, jerking away. Afraid of the mirror but too curious to avoid. A shower to clear head, wash face, keep jaw closed. Wiped fog off glass, plucked brows and brushed hair, But to clean teeth, I had to open. And inside, this monster plant glaring whites open for a brush too. I snapped my clamp back shut, resigned to silent halitosis.
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Heidi KraayProcess notes on a work in progress. This page serves to invite you into the way I work, with intermittent posts to show you the hows and whys on the whats I make, as well as prompts and ideas I bring to certain workshops. There will also be some raw, rough content found in notebooks written years ago, previously posted on: Archives
January 2021
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