I'm
an accessory to periods of imagination consisting of musical
derivatives, pocket sized affiliations, bowling alley motivations and
all and all. conviction is what gets us through deep
moments of non assertion, where we let something else take the wheel
unwillingly, and it's so empowering and engaging to make a statement
that is woken up ultimately and untimely in the end. I have made
them, or thought i was spinning yarn at the thought, and wound up
losing it in an attention deficit fit of fascination with random
strings of images that could of tied themselves to memories, longings
or soft plans. the things I niche my way through have their boiling
points and eventually melt down into nothing but nouns. in lieu of
that, i look for the aspiration and contrasting predicaments of
imperfection. but... I was on a train, and cbc was on, and the cello
was for me. the sun was fallout light and the haze fell to the back
seat. there were people making love on the hill and that frightened
me, but I never saw orange that way before.
if
I was to crawl in spaces beneath the soil and point my finger at
small openings of earth, they would be area specific, within myself,
and the proverbs would not very. they would be roots and cartridges
of memories, and I don't think there is another way to put it. they
would be skin, soft, beautiful to sleep by and some of it burned.
it
would be eyes, apologetic, like no concept could ever illustrate, the
kind of apology you see once in your whole guilty life. sunlight, the
one that gives up when it sees leaves dying. black and white, the
kind used for make up. inspiration, the kind that makes your cells
line up with loyalty and an overwhelming desire to decease in the
name of secrets you can't tell, vibration, the one that you wouldn't
have a core without. are those things I remember, memories are just
what we think of.
This
is in aid of bigger pictures I can't see. because I knock over
obelisks when I look for art, and step on places when I look for
meaning, but I don't go there on my own, I never have, people have
taken me and that has ruined me. turned me into a vampire. as
disgusting and repulsive as the archetype can be, there is place of
warmth I can't access.