Life script = feelings > truths.
We are perpetual liars! The scripts are changed when recalled
and the artist owes nothing to accuracy.
Truth and reality are not synonymous nor are they semantically related -
What is true is not real, what is real is what is felt.
Can I be convinced of feeling something I have never felt? I know what it's like to -
Does dreamland count as life experience? I wont minimize what happens here.
Even the realest ones keep changing your lines in the morning, minimizing and maximizing your role - malleability, conflict, development - you are an ultimate performance.
I will write you into my life, a permanent character,
just as easily as I perceptually write you out, still
dreamland betrays every false truth I ever wrote, claiming History can't be erased,
only rewritten, relived, and returned to the waking world as a
somewhat more coherent production:
there is a beginning, a middle, and an end
but never a real intermission.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
XLIV: the sameness
what is unique about apathy?
apathy is not a trend, so
stop wearing it all over your malnourished selves as if it were an expensive garment that is made to look like you borrowed it from toothless tom on the corner of st laurent and ontario.
your existence is redundant.
everywhere you go, you already are. stop staring at the world from behind your over-sized lenses (that you probably don't even use to see... because you're already blind to anything fresh) as if it were a boring cliche. look at yourself, no just look at the person next to you and you'll see yourself. it is a sad excuse for style, one that mimics mannequins and pretends to be edgy - it is dull and insulting. if i see one more pair of high-waisted pants paired with one more floral top and some impractical, flat, support-less nerdy-looking pieces of fabric that barely cover the soles of your feet, i will vomit all over you and then proceed to judge you.
now, gimme those ray bans.
peace.
apathy is not a trend, so
stop wearing it all over your malnourished selves as if it were an expensive garment that is made to look like you borrowed it from toothless tom on the corner of st laurent and ontario.
your existence is redundant.
everywhere you go, you already are. stop staring at the world from behind your over-sized lenses (that you probably don't even use to see... because you're already blind to anything fresh) as if it were a boring cliche. look at yourself, no just look at the person next to you and you'll see yourself. it is a sad excuse for style, one that mimics mannequins and pretends to be edgy - it is dull and insulting. if i see one more pair of high-waisted pants paired with one more floral top and some impractical, flat, support-less nerdy-looking pieces of fabric that barely cover the soles of your feet, i will vomit all over you and then proceed to judge you.
now, gimme those ray bans.
peace.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
XLIII: contraband (5192010)
We walked, not yet hand in hand, only swinging silently, barely grazing, nothing to prove, the absence of warm sand - I thought I never wanted to leave the city, that in that moment I could laze forever in a room with one window, until outside next winter's falling snowflakes would dance for us behind the cold glass, and freeze our indecisive hearts at that fruitful moment before they learn how to ache, break, or give more than take.
Summer thawed us, then. I cant remember how to feel how I felt. Why do the ripe ones rot so soon? It is not yet even June.
Summer thawed us, then. I cant remember how to feel how I felt. Why do the ripe ones rot so soon? It is not yet even June.
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