... grow my hair and climb atop some lonely mountain, lay open my guts, pick out the dreams and fears, one by one, with due care, mix them well with symbols and stories, knead it all in the bowl of silence, and make a God.
... stomp the holy crap out of your mushy poems, pounce upon them in the dark, bite them in the neck and leave them to die in the open, bleeding.
... rip the fabric of this ball-less world, rip off my clothes and hump the red light in the middle of a crowded street just to shock you out of your waking death-like-stupor.
2 comments:
Wow!! I love all three, the first one the most.
What I would really like to do is to stamp out all my fears then filter all my worries, drain them in a bottle, throw it out of the window and hear it crash. Then I would like take off, just like that, with a camera and go hitchhiking. Do you think your God will help?
The previous post captured a moment of high, I guess.
ELf
Dude! whats goin' on! I gotta call you.
Aj
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