"You are smiling, you are emptying the world so that we could be alone."
Sleeping beauty awaiting the kiss from a non existent prince when all else fails and someone is a great guitarist and also finds himself privileged in all areas of life aside from romance. What a damn shame, I say. We are all so used to our molds that we never truly break free from them. We are in ruts, stuck like pigeons shot by careless hunters. Those who consider hunting a sport are also those who go out with full intentions to pick up attractive and vulnerable women. Everything in between those lines is false advertising. Suddenly we are too deep into awful shit to realize there are no remaining good guys. No one believes them to exist. They are like the Tasmanian Tiger. The last of a dying breed. And though we are dispelled like demons in exorcisms. And I myself would never be called a nice guy considering the context. I'm weird. (Weird is good). But I'm not good. A little trouble never hurt anyone.
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A saucer lands on the street we normally walk to dinner, careless of how we act. Cars, fuck you, go around us. We are impenetrable. Talking about sexual things over casual dinner conversation. But who is to judge what is good dinner conversation? Where does that expectation come from? Most likely television which is supposedly a reflection, in return, of society which mocks and multiplies it. All stupidity. We are in charge of how things should be. Not a box.
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Finding myself a place among the gods. That frieze, that pendulum swinging, beheading all of those close enough to be in contact with each other. You are ridiculous in love.
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You are crazy, out of line, frown lines solid on face. Countenance entirely negative. Sleep in horror of that prior activity all guilt-riddled and hellish introspective. I trust no one immediately. It's true. I have such a hard time believing someone will do something for me after they say they will do something for me. I could hang my head and call it a defeat or learn from it all, this night especially. Is it possible for me not to drink until my birthday? Is it possible for me to never smoke again? No need for these depressing lows. Incited mostly by the past examples of musicians and artists and writers who use alcohol incessantly or smoke cigarettes to burn up the synapses in between bouts of creative passion. I'm young. They say. I can do anything to my body. but I fear irreparable damage. of the consciousness. suddenly somber. misunderstanding what love is. a shameful thing mostly. confusion and intimacy.
