why is it the only topic i want to write about is the only topic i cannot?
it's difficult to be a wandering bard, a penniless minstrel, when i can't bring out of me a single beautiful melodic note about love.
how am i supposed to feel love when i am so detached and apart from the world?
i can see it now: a globe encased in atmosphereic ectoplasm set right in front of me. I am the giant invible man floating above earth, watching inhabitants and occasionally pressing the smite button. Occasionally parting oceans, starting apocolypses, and crying. But here I am, with the world in front of me and i am reaching out for it and it is out of reach and i am grasping and i am watching and i am giving up and i am back to my old ways. a man curled around the earth, at the begining and end of birth, curled around the earth, with no umbilical cord.
can someone join me?
can someone relate?
even without contractions, not even god is satisfied with his life.
No comments:
Post a Comment