[ Hopefully this is going to be a build up of Monet's writings from years back and present ones. Past will be marked since it's not all going to be in order.]

Past entry - 5th March 19--

It was darling once more when the flicker hit my eyes, I counted it. Each one. Three, two, one. I was not sure when I sat but you were my first thought to speak with. Of course we both knew, you and I.The soft tapping against your cloud white face would wait. That nurse arrived again. On the two thousandth, seven hundredth and forty eighth second of the rays showing their ugly face. I wondered when I glanced out. You by my side of course, silent as always. Try as I might, you gave little in response to the darling garden in front. Beauty in that one moment, eyes cast out, past the bars, through the glass, reachable. And then it was, but I digress over your listening ears. Shh, be quiet.

Morning, morning, voice she would sing. Pull me back, rain broke my wing.
Threats towards my fancy, lost was four. I hated you, you hated me. It's all we wore.
Stripes of ebony did flutter. We broke your voice, darling you would stutter.
Down, down, down I watched you fly. Did they both turn a blind eye?
Yes I screamed, no they cried. Pinned me down, took it all. Sleep they would provide.

Those ghastly eyes, orange glow. It visited me again before I woke that second time. Always between. I wouldn't scream though, not this time. The glow was almost brighter than that first time. Almost peaceful. It flew out the window again as I reached for it. Taunting, always taunting out of reach. Unlike the first time, you split didn't you? Opened with each announcement. Enough of you though. The second nurse, late by nine seconds. Insufferable how she could make us wait. What would she be doing? Taking three slower steps, it's hindered her efficiency. The expression on her face from yesterday. Distant, she's concerned for something. Personal life. No signs she's ever worn a ring. No, no. Affection for animals is gone, groomed to the point of compulsion. She's alone. The possibility of health remains. The faint twitch in her left leg every heavy step she takes remains. It has not declined these past four months. Her breath increases one cycle too fast, as does the droop in her eyelids. Down by what seems one half on an inch. She's tired, not because of health concerns. No. Her eyes tell the signs of a lost doll, strolling too far from the garden. Once happy to weed, but adventurous she has become. Desire under the weight. Let's see if we can fix her.

Dr. Summers glanced towards his cheap painting eleven times during our talk. For a total of one minute, five seconds. Strange how the noise around him would claim such outrageous claims upon me when he wastes the one minute, five seconds elsewhere. Which brings us to our earlier thought. The wall behind was disgraced, each day it whines. I have given up telling it to drop the nail. Cheap, no. Not cheap. Captivating to such a skittish mind. I know why he looks away. His comfort, comfort for the fool that stands on sinking ground. He asked again though, asked why I wake up screaming to the orange glow in my living dreams. He approached an inch closer. Staring to my eyes. Granted I allowed him to stare as I stared back. Disconnected. A word he so often repeats. Useless parrot. It glowed at the mention I admit. Took me through that soft glow. Before I knew it. I was once again in the rose garden.

Mother you left it unbroken upon our next visit. Sitting there, always sitting. Even the spring would not grow towards its shadow. Yet as usual, you took my hand, I took yours. A smile on your lips. "Come with me, my night rose." Once more mother. You took us across under the lazy morning sun. Hazy soft beams through those delicate leaves. Glistening like snow in the spring months, a rare treat to watch. You did fill my head with flattery. Tell me now, in all honesty what you thought of the brook. So often stepping our toes in. Why it was so warm. You know. I led you to the source. You pulled and pulled. Be quiet, Mother. You're going to see. You did see. Night rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose. We sung as your lungs filled red. The scent I could smell, the warmth of the sun on your back. You may have shown me the brook but I made it flow. On grounds moving, decaying. Every maggot crawled on us both, I chewed. You swallowed. Natures healer you told me. They healed more than you know. You will never understand why the ground turned green. Not a whisper, nor a stir. Forgotten under the dimming light, growing colder still. But back you took every silken line, thread, and lock against my cheeks. I felt your heartbeat when the dancing silvers lit the sky, larger than the night before. A glow, not orange of course. But the white, white like snow? You woke up and took me home, Mother. Away from the brook, through the trees and back by the window. Only then you let our hands part ways. You did spoil me.

Dr. Summers, you misted, unknowing doll. I looked after my mothers image had faded. No more useless painting, no more chair that turns you up and that constant ticking from his clock. I know why he has it so loud, he tries to distract me. The sharpness in its contact echoing. I'm in my room again. I never do get around to the time that passes between here and there. Possibly one day. For now the evening had set in. The nurses stepping away, breaking the ebony pulls and resting me down. I suppose it could be fair? They failed each moment I took one piece away. Voice silent, I'm not at all pleased they hold my voice silent during the observation hours. The others, they are broken. If they were not growing so delicate, they would be able to accept the radiant words that split them apart. Other than the one who stays silent in the corner on that brown seat. Clutching that stuffed toy. She knows what I see in her. How broken each memory cries. Our gaze lingered today of course. If only for two seconds. Until they take the mask from my lips, she'll have to be fixed later.

Finally the night dances over the sky, silver light flickers my eye. The meal forced, presented, turned and heated. Bars against each sight, ever keeping us distant. Yet again they said I would eat alone, how many nights pass since they decided my view of the dining room would stop? I would know had I not been distracted. But warmth, left and right. Taken from me and why? Because I took fancy to her breath. A broken toy, strings high above with no control. Oh. Her arms would suggest, taunt, maybe even tease. Yet her breath was almost lost on such a sight. That insufferable noise. I had to help her. That taste of her breath between her lips as I was stopped at her ribs. I felt the skin melt in my mouth so sweetly. Divine it was sweet. How it broke, softened and slide past my tongue. Pull as they might, I was not going to leave without that air inside me. I told you before, do not argue with me. I told you so many times, we agreed. You knew it was those patches that made her beg me to continue. Past the skin, inside those spheres that popped. I only knew it was yellow after it dribbled down to my chest. Sharp in flavour. They dare say puss, you and me both know it was the bliss that began the canvas. It was then that it happened. That moment, that second. With eyes around us. Echoes down the halls, the others in chaos. That special moment. Of course I've already told you what it was, my dear canvas. How I tell you so much and you listen to me now.

Whether the subtle noise above me now would listen, we shall see. Tonight is especially quiet. The thick green around us makes for little interest, the familiar tickle from outside the glass is showing itself. Tell it, tell it now. Before the tick breaks. To late after it turned back. Twist it, I still have the remaining piece under my pillow. It shrunk, turned darker. It betrayed its side and yet I don't take another bite. Just to feel the honey hair in my hands again, every press of that voice into the metallic teeth. I could feel the mind shatter, that soft resistance until it snapped between my hands. Much like the night. A sweet night it could be. I guess I'd like to open the door and see you again now. Orange kiss.