Don't ask me, what you know is true
I am defined by my words. Without them I am unraveled and nonsensical. To be colored inside the lines, my own lines, is very important to me, and right now, there are lines all over and they go nowhere and define nothing.
I want to send out a bottle with a very important message, but I'm not sure what it is, or if I do, then I'm somehow irrationally scared to actually say it.
Have no doubt, when I do, I'm sure that it will shake the reality of a few,
or,
perhaps not.
This is where I waver, between being something,
and being completely eclipsed by nothing.
And yet, the image still shimmers, and yet, I am still waiting for the feast, and yet, I have something to say.
5 comments:
We could live, for a thousand years...
As usual and intentional, your crypic comments lose me. It could be the massive sleep deprivation, the haze of second-hand smoke, the disturbingly potent London-purchased cold medicine, or the French Hee-Haw in the background, but why do you find your own condition somehow beyond your power to define? What have I missed here?
you doing okay?
btw
love my new title on your links...very a la Prince, symbol, whatever he is now.
it "will shake the reality of a few" when I admit, " I wore pink polka dots."
No seriously, loved the piece, especially trying to define oneself within chaotic lines, like a really messed-up coloring book. of course the lines change and waiver! where is the solid and unchanging beneath all the crazy mutable lines? That's what I want to know.
` As long as you are able to stay in the lines when you're driving! ;)
` BTW, video of superhero Lou Ryan is up! Also... old photos!
` BTW, actually cool video of Lou Ryan superhero is up, beating the crap out of a guy in a movie trailer! ('Cuz he's in the movie.) I'm in there too.
` Check it AWWWT! (Unless you don't care about me at all. *sniff*)
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