There is no poem good enough for you; none I could say, "There! This is for you!" particular in its undocumented connotations, each word becomes its own obstacle to truth. There is no painting good enough for you: none could I say, "There! This is for you!" each stroke of the brush merely a minute unbounded by your infinite realities. No expression exists, nor can it - doomed always to failure, near despair - to be for you: the god of my heart. it is barely worship, a shameful offering. i beg this worship worthy.
screaming at low volumes
