Burns of yesterday and arms too cramped to spell and spilling tears that the day will not set free struggle to breathe beneath my parched, tight eyelids and the pressing of before without any reason. (Rubbings of blue will paint me all in those Oedipal colors) and the one blessed slash that comforts and disappoints at the same moment-- my only solace and my reason to fear (Much like HE was in the recesses of my imagination!)
***************************
And thoughts of the beginning of this book (among others) won't seem to leave me alone... tormenting with their plastic pounding yellow beaks (throughout the muddied Corinthian tops).
And the tears slide up and down my throats, sent by the liver (torn from a baby's cry) And infinitely shamed about how reckless I was on Friday night.
NOW to embarrass myself when I was supposed to be making up for it...
Monday, May 31, 1999
Wednesday, May 19, 1999
Pumps and Loafers
Okay, almost a month later and the same opening remarks. And I am sitting here at Commencement, unable to open my eyes against the fog and the parched white sky. The grass underfoot sleeps stuck together in fat, wet clumps, matted into a soft carpet by trains of pumps and loafers.
Blue and white balloons hang like dots on invisible strings... confetti over the small capped crowd... while everyone pats himself on the back...
And as the sun fades in the already spotless sky, my eyes can relax and I stare at the crisp London tip of Riverside Church and think of Monet.
And I hate this and dread the motion of time, although I am desperately ready for something new and my stomach hangs empty against my spinning head... this is reform. The sky is so threatening today and I can just imagine this ink bleeding and running off the stage.
And someone has released the balloons into the sky and they float away into the blankness to the place of a spoken word. It makes me realize that the sky is not blank at all, but rather it is full and thick with crowds.
Blue and white balloons hang like dots on invisible strings... confetti over the small capped crowd... while everyone pats himself on the back...
And as the sun fades in the already spotless sky, my eyes can relax and I stare at the crisp London tip of Riverside Church and think of Monet.
And I hate this and dread the motion of time, although I am desperately ready for something new and my stomach hangs empty against my spinning head... this is reform. The sky is so threatening today and I can just imagine this ink bleeding and running off the stage.
And someone has released the balloons into the sky and they float away into the blankness to the place of a spoken word. It makes me realize that the sky is not blank at all, but rather it is full and thick with crowds.
Monday, May 3, 1999
I'll Ruin Him
You totally get what you deserve, You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve, Fuck you, you piece of shit. You are a fucking screw up and you deserve to burn in hell for the garbage that you are. You should be grateful for life at all when it's wasted on a fuck up like you.
But I'll ruin him... I still CAN!
But I'll ruin him... I still CAN!
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