Character Sketch: Juliana

(Still don’t know what to you call; faceless, borrowed-names heroin.)

She doesn’t connect others in a weaved singular now.
Synchronicity is low.
She keeps them behind separate doors.
Simultaneous realities.

The Actress (2002)

She dressed up pretty like an actress
With several countless sweet-a-face

And for each man an original smile
As they hung hungrily for her grace
And everyday t’was someone new
And everyday a brand new mask
And in between twilight and daylight
A man became her forgotten past

5/9/2015: Angry love letter from TDK:

So it goes something like this:

You’re a two-faced arrogant tramp with ultra pretentious conceit and grotesque pride. Who truly do you think you are and how dare you. How dare you assume such a cavalier attitude under such false pretentious pretenses. You should be pulled off the stage with a giant hook immediately, yet you continue your routine performance with an offensive smirk on your face and that feather in your hat. Make it stop! How do you continue day in and day out to prolong such an ignorant repeated pattern of behavior and maintain your disrespectful indifference to any human virtue of any real value. It is unacceptable the way you’ve treated me the short time I’ve known you- how you play off your casual attitude in such a cool unaffected manner, disregarding my plea and telling me goodnight sir. What a scumbag you are. I’ve gone so above and beyond and far out of my way to conquer this entire fallacy you’ve turned reality, with your dim awareness and clueless convictions. You’re quick to size something up with your cold shoulder and your blinders on. What insanity to make such sweeping gestures out of your delusion in denial and your flat out inept sense of judgement. I’m baffled by your egomaniacal presumptuousness. I’m shocked by your aloof diagnosis of your own twin. What a sickening outrage! I’m stunned by your prideful indifference masquerading in an opaque mask. I’m simply broken to pieces over your stubborn efforts to maintain such a hollow form without a genuine substance. But ever do you manage. Always do you rise to greet each new day with the same mistaken rigidity. You hold true to the self-same non-person that blends into the amnesiac crowd under authoritative hypnotic suggestion. You could never make any effort to right any wrongs while your automaton heart beats a muffled, dissonant rhythm and your blood runs cold through your hot veins. You seem to refuse or have no concern for this person that is me, whom you’ve pulled the rug out from under and left out to dry. Just who do you assume you are to take me or leave me. Doesn’t matter to you. You think that’s a strength. That’s just absurd. What kind of towering fool on stilts are you. Do you know how much I’ve gone above and beyond and far out of my way to conquer all false pretenses between us while trying in vain, with such tenacity, to bring us back into ourselves and love and honor who I know we are. What a concept right? I could have, and did, look past all the imperfections in you and your sordid history, not to mention all the things you found wrong with me, all your rejections of me and what I thought was to be our life together – my life with the woman I always wanted and always knew was there somewhere – my soul mate twin flame my whatever – my choice among billions. And you are that girl, but you are not controlled by you. There is some little troll that lives inside you that you’ve handed your life over to. This little gremlin has an agenda. Why why why, why are you so cruel. I have never done anything that you liked. Ever. You shoot me down on everything. You did it again. I guess I shot myself down I suppose. All I wanted was to make something nice for you, to draw you, and you were happy and excited about it, but I guess I fucked that up too again. You never have anything good to say. I can never make you happy in any way and I want you to make your peace with me and just be on your merry way. I doubt you’ll have anything to say to defend me or fight for keeping me around. You always wanted me to hate you. I’ve heard it more than once. So why don’t you just tell me that I mean nothing to you and try and explain why you still talk to me. But you won’t do that either; not worth your time and effort. And all I want now is for you to go about your insensitive life in which you have no dignity and defined by the people you find yourself surrounded by. With me you’ve burned every bridge that I painstakingly built back to you, back to me, back to what really matters above all else. I can’t continue being a fly on your wall while you waste days and months and years living a self-centered, drab life in a country where women are sub-human and killed off like dispensable pieces of garbage. Go be progressive in your contemporary urban wasteland though…. and best of luck. Gloss over the dirt with money and clothes and toys and cars and food and supermarket novels and the internet and anything and everything you can use to circumvent the horror of your soul damage. By all means go glorify your worldly affairs ever so smugly, with the lights gone out in your eyes. Be the earth-bound dream that died for nothing, and be it well why don’t you. Be a cunt, a bitch, a whore, an excommunicated daughter, an ex-wife, an accidental mother. Be a taller, more organized fourteen year old girl. Be an actress, a fiction teller, a prop. Be a killer of love.

You’re stupidity in action.

But you’re also poetry in motion.