every piece is a reflection.
Art is a reflection of the Self,
the only true remembrance of
what is, what was.
.
I keep on falling towards Epitome,
keep on falling down. I don’t know.
There needs to be dull mundanity,
discipline. Slow and melancholic,
with a walkway twisting into a
funny head. There is not much time,
not to perform. Heed the warnings
of the clashing steel and fiery sun,
my patient child. You need the
serene hours, the warm palisade.
You will be vomiting syringes soon,
wearing a suit. Presence, with no sugar.
The odyssey of observation, looking
at people looking at people. Kissing
foreheads. Drinking honey.
Accepting vulnerability (it is what it is)
and listening to the words. There is no
Being. Come forth, march home. Do.
Be gracious in your embrace and look.
I don’t know what forever is but hold
your hands together, for god’s sake.
In motion, spitting, staring.
.
I need to be alone. I want to sit
on my chair and be alone. I need time to think.