I said I wouldn’t do it and I did. God damn-it! Fuck. Its too late now, it’s started – and after all, I am built upon going back on those things I swore I would never do – or never do again. A man who has never changed his mind, is no man at all and thank god for that!; I am, if that is the only metric, more man than most! It is truly a shame that is not the only metric. In that sense, I am still attempting to be – only attempting. But enough of my penis and its inadequate extendability.
I had a point that I’ve not forgotten – I blame the drink, not the love that invades everything and ruins poetry with uniformity and extends your life into the region of eerie deformity where you desire god more than you desire sanity, but sanity never releases its frustrating grip – it’s that grip that molds the poems uniform, not the love. It is a lie to say that love could ruin the poetry; for no grief nor joy, no murderous desire nor motherly instinct, no suffering nor pleasure – none of it would be of any use without its relationship to love, and it’s effect on the perception of love.
Oh, you sanity, my enemy who wields a sword disturbingly deftly. You, sanity, are an enemy to the universe itself and to God. You, sanity, have sent the very foundations of civilization erupting into bloodied arms and legs that fall like an uncomfortable rain. You, sanity, should be vanquished were it not for your cunning wit and sly arrogance – pretension is all it is, really.
You
Sanity
Should suffer.
I
will
Love
you,
Sanity.
eventually.
there – it’s been done. i’ve written that thing that I said I would not. its of no import, the contracts I made at a different time; all of it is against love. Sins against love. That’s what he really said – and that’s what I really do. But i think they are one sided sins; I think they only count when you count them. I can’t count mine; not that I don’t try, there’s just too many. It doesn’t seem to stop love from showing up on a rising sun casting her gaze upon those purple mountains. I will try and avoid sanity and enjoy love.
off to deutsch class late. its love that makes me go.
“its love that makes me go”
My dad always told me that money is what makes the world go ’round and I have always argued with him that he is wrong.
I suppose he and I will always be on different sides of the same fence, throwing stones at one another until one of us no longer exists.
I champion for love. His vote will always be for money. And because of this, he has never had time for love (at least not for me or my bro or even our mother, but plenty for his whores)and I have no use for money.
I don’t know why I posted all that here, but it is sort of fitting since today, December 12th is my brother’s birthday.