i’m quite positive that i’m slowly slipping into madness, that is, if the process hasn’t fully gripped its fingers ‘round my neck already .
it’s a pleasurable pain though, the descent as well as the controlled asphyxiation .
Category: musings
the maxim on WOODY GUTHRIE’s guitar .
i’ve been on a writing rampage recently .
seeped into the pages lie truths and lies and all the in betweens.
i hope to one day play moleskine jenga .
that is, should i ever find someone so disarming.
i’ve let you devour my innards so that not even i can make use of the leftover carrion .
just letting my mind fly, trying to catch the ideas as they float by .
if i bury this message deep into the wet earth
maybe, somehow,
it will reach you .
you’ll feel it course through you,
it will enter at your feet
and perhaps dance around your toes .
“in the sex war, thoughtlessness is the weapon of the male, vindictiveness of the female .”
– CYRIL CONNOLLY
a secret embrace
something dangerous
wrong, dirty, yet enlightening,
a beacon of excitement in a monotonous world .
yet one tires so quickly,
only a temporary escape from uniformity was the true desire .
no real courage to face something different .
i don’t tempt .
you are just drawn .
and once you draw me in,
the allure for you is gone .
rationally, one would think the dilemma would be finding a way to reconcile an artistic self (that yearns for constant self expression) with a practical self (that needs to provide material sustenance), but my brain doesn’t work in that capacity and the latter of those terms doesn’t exist as a priority, and will never oust the former or be able to coexist with it harmoniously .