Dark alleyway, piss smell.
Shadow places for hiding. For trapping.
A hole. No space to breathe.
I sneak on people and don't mean to.
Blamed for my quiet feet. "You scared me."
I don't blame them for not being present,
Not noticing their surroundings.
Something behind me.
I turn and there's nothing.
Except on my back, on my neck.
Like a grizzly bear's hot breath.
I taste metal. Nails.
I was going somewhere important
but now I forget who I am.
Now that someone's following,
I want to give up, turn around.
See who it--
Process 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: