...from friends, family, lovers, painters, dreamers, drinkers, thinkers. kind intentions often reveal themselves in rancid robes. how many times are we gifted the partner of our dreams only to have those idealized dreams dashed on some insignificant rock of detail? when we need words we get worry, when we need silence we get sound, when we need love we get sex, when we need sex we find friends and then forsake them.
half the time i dismally fail to utilize my free time, choosing instead to wallow in some sort of psuedo-self-pity/philosophical coccoon, banking on the chance it will grow me wings I know how to wear.
spoiled. thoughts and heart given too much time to ferment, foment, fester into some sweating knot of sick love thirsty for a fix it doesn't need, just yearns for hopelessly, helplessly. hindered by indecision i blunder and wonder 'round blind alleyways and deaf avenues, listening for that perfect blend of silence and sound to wrap my eardrums around. but what percussive paradise could lure this sour lust?
tomorrow's pictures flirt with today's temperament, eventually and ultimately seduced by yesterday's proud insolence and rash hips. lips locked around the word, seeking a she to share it with in secrecy, in silence, in solitude, together.
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