college st
smells like an old bottle
of manischewitz tonight
so many people
dizzy
with magnified
emotion
a girls head
falls into a mans
lap on the bench
mistakenly taking
his genes into
the wrong orifice
Saturday, May 16, 2009
i'm feeling dangerous.
lights are important, they allow us to see in the darkness. whether it be the darkness of the night or the metaphorical darkness that can cast a shadow over our mind and heart.
when i walk through my mental space i am placed in a white room with worn paint and dark slate outhouse colored tiled floors. this is a very plaintive landscape with little compassion for aesthetics. mirrors dominate the landscape and echos reverberate off of the walls with little to dampen their projection. the air is wet both aurally and visually. the mirrors threaten me, they amplify my sight. this room is very loud. you can hear an atom shift. my footsteps sound like gunshots.
there are three light bulbs casting light into this room. each one above a white sink with a intermittent drip. the intermittent dripping faucet echoes with one of the light bulbs flicker. it's so loud in here. the flickering light bulb is a strobe representing my self awareness. it can't keep a constant stream of light. on and off. in this plain room, this light bulb becomes the focal point -- the singularity.
this is how love works in the mind. it's only fed a broken, flickering stream. you have to find your way in a constant stream of darkness and light.
in a perfect room, we notice only what's broken -- in this case a faulty light bulb dominates our attention. if you fix the light, there is nothing left to notice.
when i walk through my mental space i am placed in a white room with worn paint and dark slate outhouse colored tiled floors. this is a very plaintive landscape with little compassion for aesthetics. mirrors dominate the landscape and echos reverberate off of the walls with little to dampen their projection. the air is wet both aurally and visually. the mirrors threaten me, they amplify my sight. this room is very loud. you can hear an atom shift. my footsteps sound like gunshots.
there are three light bulbs casting light into this room. each one above a white sink with a intermittent drip. the intermittent dripping faucet echoes with one of the light bulbs flicker. it's so loud in here. the flickering light bulb is a strobe representing my self awareness. it can't keep a constant stream of light. on and off. in this plain room, this light bulb becomes the focal point -- the singularity.
this is how love works in the mind. it's only fed a broken, flickering stream. you have to find your way in a constant stream of darkness and light.
in a perfect room, we notice only what's broken -- in this case a faulty light bulb dominates our attention. if you fix the light, there is nothing left to notice.