4/9/01 9:47 PM
and the brilliance of it all is that it doesnt matter. bug crawls on ground crawls on rain crawls on life and this is where we all break down. she said she understood my eyes, but i said they were always empty. believe, believe, its not so important but you just have to believe. but it doesnt matter, does it, he says, because were all falling downstown anyway. making our babies with down-syndrome eyes. oh. oh. she makes me smile, but maybe we will converse better tomorrow underground. bring an unbrella.
4/9/01 9:49 PM
she touches me with icebox hands and i stare at her trhough her eyes but i dont see where she leading and thats just fine just fine cos the fish whisper to me through cavier mouths and they hate me for their poverty but theres no where else for them to go. spinning spinning ceiling fans were never so useful as my hair in the summertime, but significantly more practical. why does everyone make such a distinction between dream and reality?
4/9/01 9:51 PM
oh. oh. but shes made of fragile boxes golden and the birds all sing for her tiger-lillies which roar with unprecidented pride. trumpets, saxophones, and not a string instrument in sight. (throw away your pianos) this life is worthless in your mind, but its everything to me.
4/9/01 9:52 PM
but we cant go there, you see. because time is short and life is hollow and i shot my camel yesterday but shell be up and walking tomorrow. spit, sputter, get out words with calloused lips. YOU MADE YOURSELF THIS WAY. and this was our perfection but the word never means so much after you touch the flesh of your...self. and i guess that's all that anyoneknows in the end. oh. oh. make a world and fall away.
4/9/01 9:54 PM
oblivion was made for keeps, you know. but i popped in and out just yesterday, and hades grinned at me, and persephone, she handed me a fire-flower, and i smiled and sniffed. singed nose, but that mended with time with her. her. lady of the flowers lady of the flames. but maybe you just know what no one ever told you. so i sit down with her ivory hands, and kiss her velvet lips, and hope that tomorrow things will be more coherant.
And this is what I torture the ones I love with, when I get in these states. Pure thoughts, unedited. These are the monologues that constantly run through my brain. Not a pretty sight, I'm glad they don't come out very often.
revoless.
10:00 p.m.
2001-04-09.
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