Pygmalion
I realize now that I'm alone, but there is no cruelty to this reality (just silence). I am comfortable with the allowances I give myself, and with the alliances that are in place that are not strong. My separation is stronger, and I still hunger. If they dump me in the dirt, why should I be surprised? I am not. I hunger to shield myself, to keep myself protected. I hunger for the most basic things. What is seemingly complicated is quite simple.
The ideas you think are original are the ones that you've been fed.
I am sick of the idea of true-love-ism. It's ruined my mind, spoiled my goods. I would consider myself having been in love twice (but when it comes down to it, I would only consider having been in love once). "The only really perfect love, is one that gets away." Well, let's suppose they all "get away", but where do they go and when do they ever stay? I'm assuming we're all talking about unrequited love (being the best). Unrequited love is the best. The level of masochism involved is just enough for me and nothing can destroy it because it never happend. Strong feelings that are never solidified and never have a real place in reality are the strongest, and the most everlasting. The Pygmalion you design is much more satisfying than anything out here where everyone else is. Everyone's love is a Pygmalion. The most real things are the most unreal.
True-love-ism; the only reason anyone reason any of us believe in this myth is because of Hollywood and all those stories and fictions (which are not themselves reality, which are dramatizations). Reality is never like the movies, the plays, or any of that stuff. True love is ridiculous as Romeo and Juliet (all you need is one night and suddenly you're impaled upon a stranger). Love, impaled upon a stranger.
I've only loved once, truly, and I don't think I'll ever feel that way again. What a waste.
one day i'll really know
one day i'll really know who you are
one day you'll know me too
maybe that one day is in my imagination
but maybe love is imagined
but maybe the most powerful things are imagined
but maybe the most realistic things are imagined
maybe i've known you somewhere
and maybe somewhere i'm sure
of myself, without myself.
I have thrown a hook out and stuck it in you.
I tow when I need to, but you always pull back.
You always pull away.
What I am doing?
Frantically pulling.
What's the point?
you're walking
i see you
and i want you somehow
we don't know each other
but i want to somehow
and you are dark in the sunshine
the shadow behind the flowers
but you are the flowers too
i want to swallow you whole
i want to impale myself on you
The ideas you think are original are the ones that you've been fed.
I am sick of the idea of true-love-ism. It's ruined my mind, spoiled my goods. I would consider myself having been in love twice (but when it comes down to it, I would only consider having been in love once). "The only really perfect love, is one that gets away." Well, let's suppose they all "get away", but where do they go and when do they ever stay? I'm assuming we're all talking about unrequited love (being the best). Unrequited love is the best. The level of masochism involved is just enough for me and nothing can destroy it because it never happend. Strong feelings that are never solidified and never have a real place in reality are the strongest, and the most everlasting. The Pygmalion you design is much more satisfying than anything out here where everyone else is. Everyone's love is a Pygmalion. The most real things are the most unreal.
True-love-ism; the only reason anyone reason any of us believe in this myth is because of Hollywood and all those stories and fictions (which are not themselves reality, which are dramatizations). Reality is never like the movies, the plays, or any of that stuff. True love is ridiculous as Romeo and Juliet (all you need is one night and suddenly you're impaled upon a stranger). Love, impaled upon a stranger.
I've only loved once, truly, and I don't think I'll ever feel that way again. What a waste.
one day i'll really know
one day i'll really know who you are
one day you'll know me too
maybe that one day is in my imagination
but maybe love is imagined
but maybe the most powerful things are imagined
but maybe the most realistic things are imagined
maybe i've known you somewhere
and maybe somewhere i'm sure
of myself, without myself.
I have thrown a hook out and stuck it in you.
I tow when I need to, but you always pull back.
You always pull away.
What I am doing?
Frantically pulling.
What's the point?
you're walking
i see you
and i want you somehow
we don't know each other
but i want to somehow
and you are dark in the sunshine
the shadow behind the flowers
but you are the flowers too
i want to swallow you whole
i want to impale myself on you