larme-de-plume

     I guess I have to shake it out because it's only if for a night that the dog days are over. I'm not calling you a liar, but the girl with one eye gives a kiss with a fist between two lungs. My boy builds coffins, and he says all this and heaven too are what the water gave me. "Never let me go," I said, "there's no light, no light," as I was breaking down again. Perhaps I should go swimming with my rabbit heart and remain nameless as I howl the drumming song. It might be blinding as I'm falling, but the strangeness and charm will never leave my body.          As I see the spectrum of our cosmic love across the landscape, I ask myself, "a

Suicide at Dawn...a suicide of my racing mind is more of what it really was. I felt calm, collected, intrigued as I became fixated on this surreal masterpiece. I have always been drawn to devastatingly morbid art, but this piece was different. As I went further into contemplation about the painting's symbolism, I came to realize that perhaps its message is not so depressing and tragic as it may seem. I feel that it is more about a death to one's old self, a self of corruption, conformity, and phoniness in order to set free the true-blooded self within of unmasked genuity and truthfulness. This piece breath-takingly captures the beauty of trag

A picture is worth a thousand words, they say. But what's a picture made of? I ask. Well, a thousand things, surely, they say. And we're all like living, moving pictures, aren't we? I ask. Well, no, not you, you're the one who makes the pictures, they say. Well, yes, I am the one who makes the pictures, I say, but I want to be one, I want to be a picture.... I may not be worth a thousand words, But if I can shatter myself into a thousand things Then maybe I can bring a thousand words to their mouths and faces. I've already pushed them all away, far away to far off places, Away from me and my abundant vices. But at last I'll be my own subjec