Oh fuck,
holy fuck,
I could be bounded in a nutshell
and count myself the king of infinite space
were it not that I have bad genes.
Fucking fuck.
This the frustration of no distinction,
of no particular dimension,
do you understand?
Of course you don't.
Sirens are sounding,
but only dogs can hear them.
Breasts and beer are flowing,
trawlers are trawling
but you wouldn't know the catch.
I know the catch. Do you understand?
Of course you don't.
There is no consolation
in being the only one to know
the secret plot, the final stop
the ends and means of all things.
It's lonely at the top.
Amen, motherfucker.
Sirens are sounding
and only dogs can hear them.
I'll eat because I have to,
but don't mistake this for the will to live.
I know the catch, because I have to.
I was born to.
2 comments:
Sounds/reads like a song lyric.
( not sure how the music would go though, maybe you had some in mind when you wrote it? )
Yes I see what you mean.
Let's say Schubert's Ave Maria.
Really these things are spontaneous little ejaculations. I have the attention span of a three year old, so any semblance of coherence or lyricism is accidental.
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