i have used up all these words, here and there, and now they've become exhausted. they are weak. they have no use. i feel blank - like an empty bottle, or a pale virgin . i feel down, down, down, cambering where there is nowhere, sinking... slaving to the pretensions, those lofty expectations, hot and foaming in my mouth. suddenly i'm some rabid dog, the sick lamb, wearing the white veil. that was my craft. now, i am here. flat and watery, a waste of anything. deadpan and drowsy waiting for this featherbrain to change into sharp math.
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