On why I cant seem to post more
I begin to write something and then I turn in to a big pussy.
The person the writing is about/to might read it
then they might hate me for putting it up for everyone to read.
unless you knew who it was as a reader you probably won't know or care, but all the same it feels like a kind of violation. I don't really want to violate people I care about, and I tend to write things about people I care about.
I run in to this quite a bit, something like every time I sit and write. It ends up going in to my personal journal instead of in to a public journal. I don't really give a shit about writing about politics or the tyranny of power. I want to write about what my little lens picks up. The imagery of my life's twisting with another life.
I want to write about desire.
Desire is asking for pain,
especially when it is many kinds of beautiful.
You know who you are, and you could easily hate me, and if you couldn't hate me you are either too good for me or you don't care. Either way you force me to sweat out words
and pictures
and music
and facial expressions
and voices
and not knowing where to put my eyes
and stumbling
and pouring things on myself
and resisting or controlling urges
and giving in to urges
and pushing or pulling
and indecision
and joy
and care shaking adultary lying biting my tongue showing my hand opening my shirt to allow you to stab me with silence luck missinterpretation fear loneliness ego music seduction helplessness hurt pity empathy powerlessness use and use and use and cool hair force invasion of space cowardliness distance blue blurry vision under a building in a hole eating cant cook for you.
All that stuff and a few more things I'm sure I will come up with upon later reflection.
Im gonna go party now.
The person the writing is about/to might read it
then they might hate me for putting it up for everyone to read.
unless you knew who it was as a reader you probably won't know or care, but all the same it feels like a kind of violation. I don't really want to violate people I care about, and I tend to write things about people I care about.
I run in to this quite a bit, something like every time I sit and write. It ends up going in to my personal journal instead of in to a public journal. I don't really give a shit about writing about politics or the tyranny of power. I want to write about what my little lens picks up. The imagery of my life's twisting with another life.
I want to write about desire.
Desire is asking for pain,
especially when it is many kinds of beautiful.
You know who you are, and you could easily hate me, and if you couldn't hate me you are either too good for me or you don't care. Either way you force me to sweat out words
and pictures
and music
and facial expressions
and voices
and not knowing where to put my eyes
and stumbling
and pouring things on myself
and resisting or controlling urges
and giving in to urges
and pushing or pulling
and indecision
and joy
and care shaking adultary lying biting my tongue showing my hand opening my shirt to allow you to stab me with silence luck missinterpretation fear loneliness ego music seduction helplessness hurt pity empathy powerlessness use and use and use and cool hair force invasion of space cowardliness distance blue blurry vision under a building in a hole eating cant cook for you.
All that stuff and a few more things I'm sure I will come up with upon later reflection.
Im gonna go party now.