It's like leaving an event through the gift shop
There are strings attached - you have to buy
[You can't just walk by]
Because, like a child with his nose glued to a window,
You want the rush of spending, of purchasing,
of owning.
And it's okay if my shoes were made by slaves
[I don't have to think about it - ]
Not necessarily ignorant, but definitely abhorrent.
Loathsome, disgusting, disturbing perversions
Painted perfections on stretched, dented canvas
Mistaken for talent, mistaken for meaning -
[Nothing has meaning anymore]
Imminent omnipresence, splitting infinite halves...
Pouring, bleeding, running out -
Phlebotomize and subsequently suture
[Everything will go back to normal now]
Will everything go back to normal now?
Nothing was ever normal and what is normal anyway?
I love this piece, I really do...I only wish that I could find the power to inhale it and fully digest its meaning...I seem entirely unable to perceive the meaning behind your words (as is typical of your cryptic wiring style) Of course that in and of itself truly is one of your most alluring points :) I like not knowing what I am reading about...it creates such a...sporadic picture within my mind...and that is beauty. My mind wanders from line to line, from image to image....attempting to secure some cohesive principle...but none is found...none is needed...it is simply the minds way of attaining security. But there truthfully should be no security in the written word...especially not in poetry.
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