2008-10-14
eros pathos
I'm granting myself a few minutes toward trying to get it out.
I've taken the abstraction and skewed it into some entity, and I want it out. I don't have the talent to strum it on the guitar and croon it out, and these are my humble words I offer, far from poetical or artistic insight. I want my catharsis, one that can only surface when I allow it to, when I cut through the rubbish, the stolid gazes, the talk small talk so small. There is so much life, so much waiting to burst, looking for some manifestation of it, anything. This must be why some people commit atrocities, to unleash themselves from the underwhelming lack of life they feel despite their throbbing internal vitality, pulsating abstract liveliness just waiting for some orgasm of actualization, some wrinkle where it can all come together on top of each other and be something REAL, something outside of the mind's own useless words and speculations, some shared existence that vividly interacts with this collective hunch of reality.
And I've somehow managed to whittle this ridiculous, overtaking feeling, this infinitesimal yet terrific pulse of yearning, to shove it into the funnel of romance and compress.
leesah-likes at 1:15 a.m.