Mark Making 2

Mark Making part 1

one thought line

Folded paper with lines Crumbled paper lines

100 in both hands at the same time

ANGRY with ink

100 lines with closed eyes

LINES

Staying in line is easier then crossing the line.

Fear to cross, unable to cross, do I want to cross? I did. An act so dirty, it covered my body, my body was not only mine, but I felt clean. Joy inflamed all of me and doubt soothed that ecstatic pain. I wasn’t hurt. The smell was smothering, the touch burned, and the memory engraved. An unfathomable crave develop. I kept coming back for more of it or more for that? There was a deepening connection, to that. I would take anything. I took the thorns, I took the weeds, i took the leftovers and the ache. I took the comfort, I took warmth, I took the security. I wanted the balance. I still don’t have it and I fall constantly. But I keep coming back for more. I come back for that which drowns me in desire and what appears to be love. That which dilutes my judgment and myself. I’m not only mine. I’m it’s too. I can’t escape it easily nor do I want to. The connection and the bond runs deep. There is a world of truths locked up in one lie and I find that staying in line is much harder then crossing the line. My line is a line. Just not the line you may want.