I'm waiting for a singing telegram that will never arrive. waiting on a text message that was never typed, a letter that was never written, a song that just stopped just 2 notes in. It is going to start playing again and i will embrace every off key chord that startles me out of my selfish shell. except i won't bc it won't.
Romantic love is bullshit in case you didn't know, but I am sure you did know. The clock started going all kinds of crazy and by the time i checked the second hand, the numbers had all fallen off...the whirring melted it all running like yolks down my face. down to the garden in a sad little bathtub near the overgrown and unkempt basil.
It does that and then i can't think or draw or read or write or paint or be sober or alone or around anyone. She comes to see me with medicine to make it better and he drops off flowers, burgundy daisies, cheer up kid. I dont want to cheer up. I tie the flowers upside down to dry out but they slip from the ribbon and crash in slow petal dancing motion to the floor and i begin to cry. then tie them up again.
I get the beer we fought over and just decide to write about myself for the whole modern world that isn't looking to never read just like everyone does. it is a lot like holding a protest sign up inside your closet.
In the grand scheme of art my paintings are bad, but I put them up in the cafe anyway. A protest sign for you on your over priced coffee break except it is just a feminist anthem for a clown who longs for the trapeze.
But there WASNT a trapeze. there was just me and you. and then there was just me.
Romantic love is bullshit in case you didn't know, but I am sure you did know. The clock started going all kinds of crazy and by the time i checked the second hand, the numbers had all fallen off...the whirring melted it all running like yolks down my face. down to the garden in a sad little bathtub near the overgrown and unkempt basil.
It does that and then i can't think or draw or read or write or paint or be sober or alone or around anyone. She comes to see me with medicine to make it better and he drops off flowers, burgundy daisies, cheer up kid. I dont want to cheer up. I tie the flowers upside down to dry out but they slip from the ribbon and crash in slow petal dancing motion to the floor and i begin to cry. then tie them up again.
I get the beer we fought over and just decide to write about myself for the whole modern world that isn't looking to never read just like everyone does. it is a lot like holding a protest sign up inside your closet.
In the grand scheme of art my paintings are bad, but I put them up in the cafe anyway. A protest sign for you on your over priced coffee break except it is just a feminist anthem for a clown who longs for the trapeze.
But there WASNT a trapeze. there was just me and you. and then there was just me.
4 comments:
"i have fallen
deep in love
with the sky"
Oh! Oh! I beg to differ. I have found nothing so touching as your paintings in a long, long time. The grand scheme is not for everyone.
Glad for your bike. :)
oh thank you so much!
Love is for princesses. Bikes are awesome. People need their senses jerked alive by art. Something to focus on.
Drunk on frustation,confusion, and emptiness.
Keep preaching, protesting, and living.
:)
Post a Comment