What. Did you expect me to cry out for you? You: the black and blue
Thing in my peripheral vision that is only beginning to acquiesce after an almost
Dying, draw your mirror away, it's only going to lead us to more pain.
Please understand that its not you its me and its you and me against the world
And how, how, how can we ever explain ourselves to everyone when everyone
Is a huge blank face staring back at us, when they stretch out their hands towards us,
Heads bent in shame, shoulders in, knees bent, feet a-p-a-r-t, afar, a part of
the mass of ubiquitous bodies that move in unison, children of chaos and gravity,
Spare me this life from this monstrosity. Bismillah! Let me go! Mamma Mia let me
well,
go.
I like this. This feels bionic and bipolar, and again an image of a girl playing the wild piano with her cigar stinging its wood to a scar resurfaces. This should be a piano song.
ReplyDeleteBitaw? I was supposed to delete this, it's one of those pieces that immediately felt like a mistake two minutes after I posted it. But and well, uhm, I forgot what I was supposed to say, only that I wish somebody can fix the guitar that somebody said once belonged to Nyoy Volante so that.
ReplyDeleteHelp me write!
The first reading was, like, oh-kaay, maybe this means a lot to Hannilou. But the second reading, the image of the piano girl came out and then it hit me now. It is a fast-paced Fiona Apple song.
ReplyDeleteHere's the help.
1. Read.
2. Write.
3. Don't read what you wrote for at least a week.