[They say a lot of things about liquor.]
An idea: dissolve myself into spores. God or the wind willing, disperse myselves and see if I can't land upon your shoulder. Melt the ice. Oh reticence. Oh cheap, fragrant cherries distilled, poisoned by the touch of tongue. I hate that I exist without, but it is the Marianne Condition. Similar in property to the Human Condition, I suppose.
It's this knowledge that it's all worthless. Everything is crooked. And when I go to adjust the set-up, fix these fixtures left haggling the air, everything tinkles into a fine dust, and I mix it well with water into a fine paste, and it looks like my reflection. A fine mush. No lumps but one, that persistent marble. Swallow a cat's eye and it swaggers about in the throat. See it there? This jugular is missing its butterfly.
Todd said something once that always made me laugh.
But he said many things that made me laugh.
I wish that more somethings and things would make me laugh, but it's hard to get a laugh around that glass regret clunking about in the windpipe. So I lie still and pray for an answer. A neon answer, even if the power goes out. Because it's always fucking electric in my brain.
I don't want choices. I know what I want.
I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't know what I want and I wish I didn't want.
It's this knowledge that it's all worthless. Everything is crooked. And when I go to adjust the set-up, fix these fixtures left haggling the air, everything tinkles into a fine dust, and I mix it well with water into a fine paste, and it looks like my reflection. A fine mush. No lumps but one, that persistent marble. Swallow a cat's eye and it swaggers about in the throat. See it there? This jugular is missing its butterfly.
Todd said something once that always made me laugh.
But he said many things that made me laugh.
I wish that more somethings and things would make me laugh, but it's hard to get a laugh around that glass regret clunking about in the windpipe. So I lie still and pray for an answer. A neon answer, even if the power goes out. Because it's always fucking electric in my brain.
I don't want choices. I know what I want.
I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't know what I want and I wish I didn't want.