That beautiful man sang “Soul Kitchen.” How suitably sweet before our time. It brings me back to my cousin’s kitchen.
The feelings of JEALOUS RAGE and self-pity. For I did not join you in that mature circle. Left with kid brother, passed out on your green thumb ganja.
I sat in the living room pretending to protect him, but I was intending to protect myself. Self-persecution my lingering demon.
Do, Do you see what I mean? For big sister was seductive as ever! You, You cautious but ever so nicely listened a lot…For she talked a lot. When I hear her say, “Do you want some?” You must’ve all been drinking darjeeling tea with your hypnotic weed.
While I lied on my belly, for my back was jittery from the paper I ate. As I gazed at Morrison Hotel, it was then that I felt you in that room— we called a living room. No, No it was my breathing room! A haven of my own. Where you tore into my cunt, and Yes, Yes I let you! Only that time I was grounded to something true and entirely ours. For the night before, you pushed my back into the floor, and the day after I learned to forget the pain. I pushed up cobra style without a wince, to show that I had a strong back and I could take it anyway and anyhow you gave it. Why did I ignore your look? Because— Why, Why? I was a sad child in the anxious seat of love! Yes, Yes love! My mind screaming this as you retreated.
Since then, I allowed fierce turmoil to take hold of my heart. I allowed you to be stuck. In that Kit,Kitchen… alone, with maggots and chrome gadgets. Forever, under a fucking magnet! How, How to get you out? Either…fear no more, what haunts beyond my breathing room. Or repeat, Learn to forget, learn to forget, learn to forget, learn to forget…(Jim Morrison)
Words: Na-omi S. Photo: Francesca Woodman appropriated and altered Music: The Doors