Wednesday 1/23/2008 12:52:00 AM

I was old before I was young. Cigarettes and skin doing performance art in my underpants. Red tantrums of womanhood escaping the neat receptacles I bought for them. Possible tears on trial for fraud.

Teddy bears face first in the graveyard. Curious with their pink felt tongues. How these mountains came from nowhere to separate us. The perpetual presumes us in delicate intervals. Time paces in blunt expositions. Frailties we thought overcome.

If it's not Freud, then, it must be Jung. It's something. Isn't it? If I'm still stuck in here. The struggle empowering the failure. In sweet recessions of touch.

It's over. I am not.

orgasmik said...

How big are your walls...can i escalade without falling??
How much would it take to know you from where i am??
And if you think this wonderful connection won't bother our differences then simply let me know by reinserting the preceding photo in your blogscorner.
Not that i oppose to your choice but it makes me feel more comfortable seeing you in the way i first met you...someone reserved yet someone who has ceaselessly making whispers and screams out of silences.

ap said...

honestly, i just meant a nice distant internet connection. that we could relate. not that we really would ever know each other. don't mean to be callous. i like our back and forth. just don't actually want to connect with anyone in real reality.

hmm... just changed the pic to further ensure anonymity. not from you. as i am anonymous to you.

it also adds a nice bit of color i like to think.

orgasmik said...

I did'nt mean to invade you in anyway ....the" walls" are those of your skin- your words, the Jung and the Freud in them.The closeness that i seek has no some odd wind from an unknown ocean i found myself before another unknown Ocean...that's all. Sufferings or not, for me, the loveliness of the soul perfumes --whenever i meet one. Even amoung the ones who claims to be volatile and inexistant; or existing otherwise .I have come into your garderns of silent whispers and a lost dolphin who tarried to hear a voice so human.
Otherwise i agree; we are just masks behind masks except that i've begun tearing mine away since a long while...atlast glimpses of my nothingness brings me the modestharmony which the human experience had poisoned by beliefs and all sorts of 'this' and 'that'.
I have not pretention to save anybody or be a saviour.I'm just a person wounded as anybody else and unbound as others.
However, i don't isolate myself on any mountain tops -no matter how beautiful they can be.... atlast, i have seen the spilling of my own volcanoes.Call it a different kind of orgasm independent of everything. Of GODS AND DEMONS.
Might sound very 'self'- centered .
In a way it is....and? in other ways its not.
I'm here because your skin touches me, and i'm not indifferent to it....because you touch VERY beautifully,
even though YOU might sheild behind all the psychotropic terms in the dictionaries ....
Whoever you are, where ever you are...whatever your wounds and joys maybe. Paper plane; cataracted; or rotting fetus i salute you .If ever you want to drp in i'm just the other side of the Skin, wall , ocean.....Wow! that's was so graphoric for me.!!

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.