He was shocked to death! And then over and over again.
Give me your money. Give me your money, nothing so complicated as composing in iambic pentameter. Let me not adulterate the quiet which has blessed this miserable lot any longer with my complication and incomplete sound of forced donation. Give me an exit! Ah! What am I thinking they’re everywhere, we’re all inside right now! Someone made the inside? Yes it was made, but for what no one can unlock. So we are inside and composing reveries of iambic pentameter and look for the exit. The answer lies before you like your eyes after a sufficiently hard pop to the back of your head. Everywhere is exit. But we are inside, because someone made it. Time made it, only to later provide us with the ultimate exit, time made so it and its band of brigands could come in the night of life and take it in our absence simply for the thrill. A little thrill theft. Time will come in the night and take everything I have, with its band of brigands and their unquenchable maw for the vanities of living, will take my name, my love, your love of me, your indifference towards me, may elicit sadness, may give you something, only to make you forget later, to take that away. You sir, have you a daughter? Have you?! Let her not walk in the sun. Her absence leaves something special. I repeated my name a thousand times by the edge of a pond today to rid it of its meaning, so that it would become cliché. No one knows a goddamn thing about me, I don’t. I cast shadows when the sun shines on me, even in the night, when time will come with its brigands, I will still cast a shadow unseen.
Today is a wedding day. I have inherited my madness now, wedded it, would like to be faithful - as faithful as a lad of my station can afford - for at least some time, but inherited means what? Something has died. Something was divorced from me It was my name that died. I tried to burn my eyes out by looking at the sun. They wouldn’t burn, they’re not wood. Wood is for burning, and to be tied to. It was made so that you may be bound. Repeated autos da fe, though I am faithless, not that sort of faith, all bad faith, all faith of the world of statistics and matters unknown. I don’t know a damn thing. Even to write.
I’ve got to be committed. Like committed? What do you mean? With jackets? Yes, I need to be bound and committed to an institution.
Nobody knows a goddamn thing about me. Shocked! To death. Then over again because he was shocked that shocking to death was possible. And over and over again.
Today is a wedding day. I have inherited my madness now, wedded it, would like to be faithful - as faithful as a lad of my station can afford - for at least some time, but inherited means what? Something has died. Something was divorced from me It was my name that died. I tried to burn my eyes out by looking at the sun. They wouldn’t burn, they’re not wood. Wood is for burning, and to be tied to. It was made so that you may be bound. Repeated autos da fe, though I am faithless, not that sort of faith, all bad faith, all faith of the world of statistics and matters unknown. I don’t know a damn thing. Even to write.
I’ve got to be committed. Like committed? What do you mean? With jackets? Yes, I need to be bound and committed to an institution.
Nobody knows a goddamn thing about me. Shocked! To death. Then over again because he was shocked that shocking to death was possible. And over and over again.