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By J. knipp Date: 2003 Apr 30 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.30.23.35.3413]] |
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Are we, you and I , headless chickens? Blind to our demise, wide awake and rotting? Notice the "c" turned about, with a tail and a dot. Notice, it is what makes up this plot. Of dirt for our collecting hearts. Shall I shovel while you eulogize. No, it is I who shall eulogize. It is unfitting for this heart's slitting to be recited by the knife holder. True you may hold the knife but did I give you the blade and beg for quick slicing motions, severances? Perhaps it is not fitting all together for us to be sitting at our own death. When we, like the hungry snake saw our own tasty tail. Yet I can't fathom, deepest down inside, my alternatives. And where have we broken? Why must we listen to reason? When love is young and naïve reason takes the back seat, better yet, it is the freshly made road kill. I don't want to reason! It hurts too damn much. Better we hold on tight and ride insanity for what its worth. And maybe this snowball in hell will find a meat locker in Satan's kitchen. I don't ask for much, just that you become naïve once more with me, put that apple back on the tree. I think once you doubt us death already slips in. The only reason Romeo and Juliet is fiction is because we're (humans) too damn selfish and scared as any snowball should be. Is love sacrifice? Is love letting go? Babe I will let you go. I won't keep my nightingale in its cage if it doesn't wish to be. I don't want to be the evenly spaced bars around you. I do still have faith in us. But faith is worthless without reciprocation. I am willing (not without pain) to let you go. It hurts me more if you bash your wings on steel and pierce your chest on restriction. Love is life. Live. |