Lately I have started working out wearing the skull mask. Somehow it’s easier: because I always expected Death to be strong, to be painful and to be relentless. I sweat, but the sweat seems cold and condensed, like dew. In the moonlight my shadow seems like a dark spreading stain. Most of my exercise equipment is black anyway. I light a lot of candles. I drink water out of black Nalgene scented lightly with lily and dusted with ashes. I wish to starve my abs, so they appear beneath my tight skin, firm, like freshly patted down graves. I spread a black cloth over my weight bench when I am done so it looks like a catafalque. Other times, I go to gym and because of the placement of the mirrors, it looks like the others on the treadmills are running both away and towards Death.
1 comment:
Did you photograph that using only torch light? I could easily picture you in a college production of Everyman.
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