Sometimes it seems like I don't have it, while everybody else do, and it's kinda embarrassing that I have this kind of incapacity, I don't want anyone to know that it is like that, and I have to engage in all sorts of dubious manouvers to keep it out of sight to everybody else. But sometimes it's different. Sometimes it seems as if I am the one who has it, while others don't. Some kind of secret knowledge, you don't say. Some kind of ability for empathy. Some kind of universal empathy.
My hands grow out of themselves.
it is dusk. it is after dusk. night had fallen over the city even the underground world where I sat and write what I like with this Japanese brand named computer. it comes from nowhere it comes from everywhere there is no longer a link between space and adjective. breath. just keep breathing. in out. breath. listen to the beat. it is your heart beating. breath. in and out.
more contrived. like an explosion it must soar. it must run over the pages like a fugitive chasing for a future tne\
i have to go to court. i'm a witness. to my own trial. whose trial. who is to judge what happened that afternoon? who was the agent? what was the cause and what the effect, i function better with the sun in my eyes i go by.
take a second of me. reduce me seduce me dress me up and seduce me. no sense that yiyu can trust me trick or tream it must be written mi itself.
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Monday, April 12, 2004
Carnival Love
It comes in the form of a few milligrams
It can have any number of colors and shapes
It is assertive and submissive, but never misses
a carnivorous carnival
carnage me implanate me
Sometimes you can see the bubbles imploding
Sometimes the heat of the flame spurting out of the carnival's belly drains you in sweat
Sometimes you can drown yourself in the puls the beat the stomping feet
And yet to rest inside this spectacle
forget me leave my flesh
Run! Follow that gargantuan rabbit through the hole
What does memory deserve? Paper slips and Polariods?
Monuments and deities? Holy holy thy memory of me
At the carnival embracing strobing rolling over
Laughing remembering
It's been 33 years
I have been waiting a long time for this carnival
In the City of God there's too much mindless killing
I want to kiss you mindfully
Imigood what kindof carnival is this? That man has taken his shirt off,
Oh, and that girl is sitting on her knees and, oh no...
Adreanline kick me, hit me with your hammer and strike me out of this state of the
Carnival
A thousand eyes watching me from the walls of this carnival-theatre
How are you doing? Are you all right?
Man in gray sweater, discreete medic
Iris rolling around in his head outside somewhere in the mist, the fog, blown, beaten,
Where are you now, my soul? Where did you fly that night of they beat you, bruised you?
Will you return upon my return?
Will you again reveal your wings to my reason?
What are we waiting for? When will the moment arrive when we will, finally, collapse this structure of reason and turn, make a turn, somehow, globally, I mean, totally, structurally. No neautral position. The passivity of the bottom depends on the activity of the top. You don't say.
It comes in the form of a few milligrams
It can have any number of colors and shapes
It is assertive and submissive, but never misses
a carnivorous carnival
carnage me implanate me
Sometimes you can see the bubbles imploding
Sometimes the heat of the flame spurting out of the carnival's belly drains you in sweat
Sometimes you can drown yourself in the puls the beat the stomping feet
And yet to rest inside this spectacle
forget me leave my flesh
Run! Follow that gargantuan rabbit through the hole
What does memory deserve? Paper slips and Polariods?
Monuments and deities? Holy holy thy memory of me
At the carnival embracing strobing rolling over
Laughing remembering
It's been 33 years
I have been waiting a long time for this carnival
In the City of God there's too much mindless killing
I want to kiss you mindfully
Imigood what kindof carnival is this? That man has taken his shirt off,
Oh, and that girl is sitting on her knees and, oh no...
Adreanline kick me, hit me with your hammer and strike me out of this state of the
Carnival
A thousand eyes watching me from the walls of this carnival-theatre
How are you doing? Are you all right?
Man in gray sweater, discreete medic
Iris rolling around in his head outside somewhere in the mist, the fog, blown, beaten,
Where are you now, my soul? Where did you fly that night of they beat you, bruised you?
Will you return upon my return?
Will you again reveal your wings to my reason?
What are we waiting for? When will the moment arrive when we will, finally, collapse this structure of reason and turn, make a turn, somehow, globally, I mean, totally, structurally. No neautral position. The passivity of the bottom depends on the activity of the top. You don't say.
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