The song goes like that.... I hum it sometimes when my mind stops working, and I stare in front of me at the computer and then pick up the messages blinking on it and save the folder and then delete them because I don't want to go see another face that is going to go away.
Everyone goes away, in the end.
I lie. In this angry mass of burning spirits I float and churn inside, willing to calm but unable to do so... willing to give in but unable to run out of my molten spirits.... I am like the lava that erupts and pours through, the bile, the unbearable lightness of being in nothingness.
Will you carry all? My empire of dirt??
And I forgot the words, but the essence is still there. The essence is there in the short spurts of enthusiasm, the childish outstretch towards something.... something. But I find nothing. I see nothing. I feel nothing.
NO Thing is. But what is not?
August 17, 2007
August 05, 2007
BILE
Bile.
Bile rises sometimes... from the innards that you took for granted. At the mess.
You rage. You fight against it coming out. You hate yourself for the mass of acidic sick erupting from your bowels, shooting out of your mouth. But you say it. You go ahead and throw the sickness at the world and revel in the pleasure of numbness inside your mouth.
And then you see a little girl playing in the gutters. The girl has pushed her arms through a polythene packet's handles, and the packet balloons out behind her... the illusion it gives.... it looks like wings. White wings.
And the girl's happy.
And all is well again. You go from place to place, stumble from block to block and falsely smile.
You tell people you adore how much you adore them, and then they tell you you look hurt.
What have I done, my sweetest friend???
Its all a mess, I tell them. All a lie. A big sham, and its just the beginning.
And someone looks over, from high and low, from all sides, including the inside, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles some more, because thats all there is to it.
You save the bile inside that smile. And one day it erupts with a little whimper of pain, and then it gushes.
Bile rises sometimes... from the innards that you took for granted. At the mess.
You rage. You fight against it coming out. You hate yourself for the mass of acidic sick erupting from your bowels, shooting out of your mouth. But you say it. You go ahead and throw the sickness at the world and revel in the pleasure of numbness inside your mouth.
And then you see a little girl playing in the gutters. The girl has pushed her arms through a polythene packet's handles, and the packet balloons out behind her... the illusion it gives.... it looks like wings. White wings.
And the girl's happy.
And all is well again. You go from place to place, stumble from block to block and falsely smile.
You tell people you adore how much you adore them, and then they tell you you look hurt.
What have I done, my sweetest friend???
Its all a mess, I tell them. All a lie. A big sham, and its just the beginning.
And someone looks over, from high and low, from all sides, including the inside, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles some more, because thats all there is to it.
You save the bile inside that smile. And one day it erupts with a little whimper of pain, and then it gushes.
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