god. i'm losing track of time. even worse, losing sleep.
how long has it been since i felt like a complete human being?
this is way more torturous than it should be.
my heart is still sewn to the inside of your shirt. you can go ahead and mail that back now, please.
maybe i don't need it after all. feel free to let the ashes of your cigarettes cover it, the rings of your empty beer bottles stain it. it'd feel too hollow in my ribcage anyway.
i think i'm becoming an automaton.
1 comment:
duchampian heartbreak...
a georges grosz photomontage can repair emptiness almost seamlessly
its good you are creating and writing in times like these-- though i hate to say its going to be erased like clementine's dream by tomorrow. easy procedure, nothing worse than a heavy night of drinking right? im still dealing with so much baggage from the last relationship that im kind of wondering if we as human beings ever fully recover... or if our cells just latch on to the new, the fresh, and everything fades from there. its incredibly hard though for those who are not latching to someone new to get through-- who are haunted by raw memory in waking life and in sleep.
the weird thing is, this is probably the most human you will ever feel. solitude is the orbital sander of the soul, revealing much faster and efficient things youd never know if attatched or... elsewhere. loneliness is the human condition. but the greatest thing we creative people have is the fact that we can create and express and make objects and writings and concepts to let the demons out and to foster growth.
we should get together and make our own fountain readymades-- celebrate we are humans and shit.
i miss you. please write
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