After only two entries, I lost this blog site for months... my own, which is strange, I know... but having such an un-catchy title I'd forgotten my own witty device.
Yet here I am, once again:
So much to say, yet so little. Always the same as this. I crawl an inch forward, and then am shoved back by some existential hand and told, "No! You get back in line, maggot!" And I, always the obeyer, slink back into emptiness and feeling less until the cracked shell hath mended itself, sealed itself shut, and I'm once again embryonic.
A face swims in my eye-hole. A handsome face. It towers and then shrinks... vanishes for days... then is relived. The face is a man's (no surprise) and wispy, wistful, weeping, waifish, willowy, wan, and wonderlicious. All those W things. It's always my distant lover coming back to haunt me. A grand autopsy of all that's come before, and visions (lusts!) of what's to come in the future. That is, if anything EVER comes again.
Catty, tawny (yes these adjectives continue), jester-like, sprite-like, wayfarer-hippie-dippy-like, long haired, long cocked, long eye lashes, long lisped... continue onward and this shit could get DULL! Cool, un-attached, dark, light, happy, twisted, hopeful, despondent... no wonder I'm never satisfied.
The face swims and I find it throughout my day, and into my night world. But a face is only a sliver, a sickle moon. So little, yet pronouncing so much.
Okay, enough of that! Had to get the juices flowing with some automatic writing.
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