she's the one who can't lie worth a damn,
and that's really what matters here,
so forgetting never lasts long enough for her
she's the kind of girl who needs to feel
to talk it through and write it down and let it out
clear the air or smoke it up
but she isn't the one who slams percussive screams
to the other kindly ones and
she's not the one who lives in the walls
and eats them from the inside out and
she's tried and couldn't use it in her art
but she's really very good at feeling
and no one can talk quite as much as her.
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3 replies:
you're always writing about soot and poo
she can really only lie worth a damn
and lie, lie, lying down on all the problems
that life likes to lay on her
until they pile up and out of her
eyelids
ears
throat
and fingertips
in a spontaneous overflow of human emotion
which she can't forget
or recollect in tranquility
What was William talking about anyway,
or was it simply an overdose of
sleepy time tea,
and did he go along the route of Sammy
only finding himself a sell-out
rather than stuck in poetic oblivion
Or maybe he just grew up
in the way that 20-somethings can't quite grasp (yet?)
And if we were artists
you know,
real, thin-skinned, thick-blooded artists
we could turn out world into wonders and horrors
that would be the talk of the town
sometime after we died
and everyone would want to load us into their Canon
with our Bullet-Bill perceptions that just
sing out across the screen
across the pages
in a way that they'll see is deep
and those 13 year olds on Deviantart really know their shit
and we're all so good at feeling
so tried and true
that we must be made of Romantic genius.
Soot and poo are the main ingredients for writing juice, you know.
Also, <3
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