Say Yo to Drugs
The occasions on which I command eloquence are often marked by the recitation of a gossamer longing extracted from faraway poetry or melancholic observations of epistemological flavor-cerebral tonguing through unread pages composed with the hope of affecting another, summoned later for a different purpose than that of their conception.
How ideas influence one another, dazzling dizzy dancing in currents swishing toward an oblivious tomorrow when breath stagnates on closed lips, grazes against a whisper, rushes out with the excitement of a madcap ball, draped in dresses and formalwear and jewelry and stumbling on heels and clumsy cluttered steps and coalescing like exhausted lovers in the night. History is the silent conscience whose exhalation is produced when we pound against ourselves and beg to be understood.
Swingers, La Mujer de Mi Hermano, History of the World, Escape from Sobibor, Mists of Avalon, The Prestige, The Fifth Element (!), Velvet Goldmine (!)
How ideas influence one another, dazzling dizzy dancing in currents swishing toward an oblivious tomorrow when breath stagnates on closed lips, grazes against a whisper, rushes out with the excitement of a madcap ball, draped in dresses and formalwear and jewelry and stumbling on heels and clumsy cluttered steps and coalescing like exhausted lovers in the night. History is the silent conscience whose exhalation is produced when we pound against ourselves and beg to be understood.
Swingers, La Mujer de Mi Hermano, History of the World, Escape from Sobibor, Mists of Avalon, The Prestige, The Fifth Element (!), Velvet Goldmine (!)