from half way

I want my whole life to feel like June 2010, where rehearsals finish at 5am and I walk across the road to my elevated living quarters, have breakfast before going to bed, ramble around the night campus squatting in a tutu, mouth vandalising an apple, some deranged creature, climb rooftops, get drenched in newspaper dreams, multiple teas before skytower-looking dreams, photographing myself horizontal upside down, five hours sleep per night plenty, planning installations fueling the fire, freezing outside the kitchen, chalk murals, isolated dreams, glove-thieving inebriation, intoxication clip clip heels, large beast car and friends right next door to disturb at ungodly hours wine on hand to be cinnamon spiced, cried upon, laughed, filmed, shattered, photographed in the woods with spare ribs under my ribs, blue nail polish and blue blankets, supposedly blue houses, tall newspaper clad men, bodies suspended in giant nets, certainty and confusion all at once, indefinitely happy, creating.