loro

2003-09-25, 4:46 a.m.

when the drive home becomes a game of slot cars -you can feel yourself connected to the road in an automatic fashion- i find things circling through my head that had lived, unbeknownced to me. I found the woman on a bike telling me that you were always opening your car door on the freeway, you were shutting it repeatedly to close yourself off. a dormant streetlight told we that everyone wants me to pluck my angst strings, so many teenage poets ritualize that music.

walking alongside cars proves to me one thing, something unoriginal in nature, but valuable nonetheless. wind gusts tear apart that single cloud hanging, hovering, above the hills. yearning for a new way of watching a sunset, lying motionless in the sky, evaporating into crisp december air.

'as i lay these thoughts down on paper, i am obsessed with the thought that i am the only person alive on the earth'

art: illision to the magician, essential to humanity (and just like a poor magician lacks the deft hand, humans can live impoverished lifes without the accepted concepts which create art).

love: absolute, lacking a handle for us to grab, we would commit hari kari upon the person who inspired our temple for them.

those two things keep me here, knowing im not the last one. thank you to all the people around me who emboddy either or both