I think that
I loved her.
So I let her go.
She could never remain transfixed.
Unmoving, controlled.
II.
[Narrator: The loudspeaker blares, drowning out that sad, sad folk tune, covering those melancholy scars with tattoos and British colours and initials...LSD...PCP...RIP...)]
~When the world, yeah the whole fucking world man is ALIVE!
Moving forward and backward and sideways through parallels unrestrained by petty complaints untainted by the food poisoning leaking into our government issued minds~
{{Never looking back}}
No time time time time time time time time time time time time time time NO TIME!
(to wander or compose or to exist in infamy...)
JustplainwhiteSPEEDspeedSPEEDspeedSPEEDspeedSPEEDspeedSPEED!!!!!
[Nameless:]~Did you know the world never stops, eh?
[Nameless:]~Man, I'm a gonna be somebody!
[Shameless:]~Get out of this shit pool and fly on the back of Lucy, to the Eastern Land of Bangeleshi Capitalism...
Posture and pose,
Roll and inject
Yeah man, far out man, tune out man, drop out man, BE IN MAN!
Or else you're just a stuck up poser Danielle...too square to round my curves...
(so warm, so soft)
Luna
(Fucking return my book, why don’t you?)
[Narrator: As her voice fades through the loudspeaker, we resume the faux angst ridden journey of our hapless protagonist]
III.
Hare Krishna my arse.
IV.
I think that
I loved her.
So I let her go.
She don't hate me.
No.
Yet, she doesn't recognize me neither.
At least rage is an emotion, panting blood from its cuticles, impassioned and infected
---
Now she lives a blank-canvas sort of life.
Not the kind where you draw out inspiration.
The sort where you stare and pretend and float in suspended...
failure.
A circumcised sort of life,
of pleasure.
Fly high Andrea, hooked on soma and L-O-V-E...fly high
above.
V.
I think that
I loved her.
So I let her be.
(Do I regret that painting?)
At least if I betrayed her.
She may have felt something towards
me.
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