Carosouls pt. I

Early Writings


Memory is the most definate thing we have. Untouched, undisturbed. It is infinte, existing, abstract, ever growing, ever concealing. We wonder why we remember some things, yet forget others. We remember all that crosses our paths, but some are concealed. Memory is true, cruel, yet warming. It is what keeps this earth together, the backbone of time, the existence of the past. I wish to live...on a two-dimensional planet, till  the emptiness in the world is filled, with a new weapon fighting the ever-wanting brick of animosity. I am growing a sponge tongue, I will die of this sadness, drenched on it. I'm singing a sinfony of mayonaise. An almost almond joyful, rhapsody. God whistles his faeries, back to my ears. It's time for tea, where is my chamomile underwear? I don't exist. Love is a chess game, I am the pawn. I am the wrench in your invention. I am the cannibal's connection. I am the crechendo to your wedding cake, I am the head of your body snake, I am the pillow's pair of socks. I am stone. Blessed-drained to clean your wounds. To bound the boundaries. And crown the quandaries. Apple tree, sesame seed, I smell your greed. your greed you need. Lip crescent, crescent of soot and stars, sitting in the wheelbarrow dust, chow, chow, Mr. Eyebrow, Snowplow cloud, Nursery Grime, Inner slime, bloody mound of time. I'm just a subway fraction, I'm only a feather in the candle, just a fool, in this cruel world.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

an old, old set of poems. I have no idea when i wrote them, or was during a period when i had a sort of obscession with the poetry of Billy corgan of the smashing pumpkins

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