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By kevin urenda Date: 2003 Nov 20 Comment on this Work [[2003.11.20.11.20.5142]] |
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the eyes never have to put things into anything approaching a reasonably articulate conversation that is why they always have 'it' whatever we believe 'it' to be on any given Sunday and always why I can never seem to make a real connection unless it is tangible enough to be grasped by all that I am that is why love is a phoenix dressed down like me needing to burn itself down in order to rise up again because that is my purpose and all things need a purpose so please send your cards and letters to these eyes who only want to see one slow parade of tears or a reasonable facsimile thereof for they have never been able to let go of an impossibly painful childhood that will always be resolution-resistant, and steeped in flame retardant, unable to burn completely unless and until I manage to burn in you 11.20.03 |