Starlight Spider
Starlight over heavenly repose, sun setting light burns aero plains as they die behind the cold mountains of this Carolina town. A ghost of mine is haunting Shelby town tonight and a doll of every voodoo bone and late night howl is stalking pretty boys there too. I am alone in this gas chamber, radiator apartment. How can I tell you friends, gentle visitors that I haven’t been looking for anything good lately? Yes I’ve been looking for rat food cyanide and yellow electric cords to tie around the garage beams. I’ve been looking for sharp blunt objects to shove up into my stomach. I’ve been reading a ton of 1990’s image comics. I’m skewering homeless folk for weed and cakes and pocket change. I’m burning bridges like matches and losing weight like a log on the fire. Using up all of everything, I’m being suffocated by: myself. I feel horrible because I can’t handle anything; much less the shit life has thrown at me. I want to wake up in the arms of my tunnel light and roam the hill sides and forest and caves of all of eternal Scotland. I want to feel the brittle snap of all the knives in my back, feel the pressure of my enemy’s wrist stop pushing and twisting. The blades will rest with me as I lay and bleed out. I want to feel my mind bleed into the wet and careless earth. Glisten on the black pavement under street lights as the tail lights fade. Some granted van pulling away with all my wants in it. Tonight there will be a bonfire, we are burning all of Colt’s things and then pissing on the embers. What number of things has there ever been? Curse is a stupid word that we say, we say our self.
On the other end of that drizzle and yucky sump, I have been trying to get my feet under me instead of dragging behind me. I have recently gotten myself involved in my local community theatre and that’s well. Work will pick up in the days to come. Consider this my heavy footed pigeon. Tonight though I feel as beet and fucked up as skin head in cell block A, I did do some drawing tonight and I feel like I might be ready to start working again. Though I feel my work will resemble cried on liquorish jelly beans on skeleton tongues. Im having some blood work done that should either help out or make things worse. I’m hoping for the better. God know it, I just want to cry, cry, and cry. This angle, baby blue t-shirt is the only thing keeping.
In this hotel lobby there is a revolving door and the weary dreams that Kris and I share have been coming in from the cold to get a fresh set of cloths and passing back out into the night. Dreams would rather sleep under the stars of heaven then the 49.95 a night rooms of malicious man. Stuffy cramped manila boxes with stiff sheets and funny smelling water. I saw a dream of ours just the other night drinking in a stairwell on the 5th level of some defunct parking garage. Dressed in a tattered red leather one piece, his oily hair swaying in tune he sang, “So where were the Spiders?!”
These comics we make will be my only children. If ever a child doth come, he will be his own man.
J.Tenney
This is the first drawing I’ve done in days; I drew it for you tonight. I miss you.
