This little Bitch, Marla Singer!

is it? is it?

it was something you mumbled
-hey, i know, i know, but shhh, my lips are sealed-
that touched a raw, personal
and painful nerve.

well,
at least, by the way i saw it,
you had a lion's courage.
even if you were on a calculated and cunning high.
(you lovely, new inebriate!)

it's not something i would ever comtemplate
myself to caress.

so,
i would continue riding on
your (madam!),
your (sir!),
your (children!) grief
and
my mountainous lies.

you who attempted,
you had yet shouldn't have.

it was an ambigious case of ambivalence.

you gave me a warmth i never knew you could-
even if you could not determine the reasons for the sudden duty bestowed upon you.

but by then,
i grew steadily afraid (oh yes, oh yes.),
and i struggled
like a fish without water.

(i am so sorry.)

now you cognise,
i am not a clown,
(we are not clowns).

i could very well butcher the fear,
the secluded apprehension,
the collective pity,
the dull, magnificent wretchedness
and woe.

but i was not a bad worm in an apple.
(i could not possibly remove myself from my own entity.)
i was the unchanged duplicate of the rusty key (fuck you, thanks.).

therefore,
i did not destroy any
malefience (i tried "temporal", but you would not let me.).

if i ask you
to be a shell for me to retreat to,
would you?

i think you gradually cognised.
oh boy, you did.

i am sorry;
i cannot erase the grief i had inflicted.

i assure,
i will up and depart;
i just do not have the strength i sorely need.

With a sampled heartbeat and a stolen soul
I sold my songs to have my fortune told
And it said
You should know that love will never die
But see how it kills you in the blink of an eye.

Posted by martha lung on Saturday, November 19, 2005 at 11:14 AM | Permalink