you, lost and lonely...
i spent last night in a state of unrest. with everything. and tharfore did not write my history essay. and tharfore had to write it during the 25 minute block of my halfass free period. thppbt. but i did it. danke to my favamarite canaidjans for the adoption offering. i may take you up on that. i am after all an accidental americanaman, roight? ehe.
i wrote another song last night. sometimes i feel as if i have bathed in magik and can only write fluttery floating nonsense lyrics aboot what touches me in ways i never could ever explain and don't even understand why i try, except to drive some deeprooted soul urge to express whatever i think i am. i look at dali and bosch and sometimes i start to cry out of jealousness and reaction to an unexplicable beauty that comes flying at me and knocks me off my feet. i see butterflies like he paints them and it makes me want to be to someone what Gala was to him. i want someone to paint me like a part of everything and i want to inspire. i want to touch someone and make them see something they've never seen. i want to understand someone in poetry and speak them like butterflies dance in my mind. i want to feel someone cry and feel them knowing i'm holding them. i want someone to see my hands as receptacles of love and knowledge and everything that i want to feel. i want someone to hold my hands and i want to feel energy like dali paints it in Gala. i don't want to be her. i want to feel the way she is painted. i want to be art with someone.
je suis un papillon
lux
i wrote another song last night. sometimes i feel as if i have bathed in magik and can only write fluttery floating nonsense lyrics aboot what touches me in ways i never could ever explain and don't even understand why i try, except to drive some deeprooted soul urge to express whatever i think i am. i look at dali and bosch and sometimes i start to cry out of jealousness and reaction to an unexplicable beauty that comes flying at me and knocks me off my feet. i see butterflies like he paints them and it makes me want to be to someone what Gala was to him. i want someone to paint me like a part of everything and i want to inspire. i want to touch someone and make them see something they've never seen. i want to understand someone in poetry and speak them like butterflies dance in my mind. i want to feel someone cry and feel them knowing i'm holding them. i want someone to see my hands as receptacles of love and knowledge and everything that i want to feel. i want someone to hold my hands and i want to feel energy like dali paints it in Gala. i don't want to be her. i want to feel the way she is painted. i want to be art with someone.
je suis un papillon
lux