the unedited ramblings of purl of tonight

the melancholy i exaggerate.

[i]
The artist's somehow narcissistic gift of self exaggeration, the typical amplification of pain and sorrow, joy, love.
Especially the endless echoes of my constant desolation that haunt me
Such a cliche, how dare I mutter such trivial words, my trivial mind
Of which I struggle for individuality, which is simultaneously being copied into another's.
Cycles of disintegrating dignity, integrity.
Both of us sitting silently by the glowing jukebox, enveloped by our own silence
We weren't holding hands I recall
Surely we aren't the same.


How I would allow my own
Alienation, from myself, of course, I still don't know.
Documentation of this internal dialogue, transforming it into something no longer just mine
The ironies of language -
They tell us in school, this education, of the new age phenomenon of the
Constant commodification of my body, my voice, my face, my private thoughts
The words tattooed on my skin, along the temples, along my jaw, etched onto my dry finger tips.
Yet ignored, hidden
We forget how to read. We forget what matters.
Winter is approaching; the leaves fall red like pools of blood at my bare, childish feet
My bleeding heart on my torn, dusty sleeve
Hers, his, theirs.

[ii]
Hatred burns for and within the skin you are in
The repulsive reality of tangible flesh, the glaring obligations to listen to this Absurd artifact of nerve endings.
You are just so tired,
Tired.
Lethargy lulls you into the silent tomb of unconsciousness, the smoldering voidless of everything.

The world and its words. Its pictures and sounds and money that scald and hurt.
You still do not understand how, where, when and why,
These blades that render you voiceless got caught in your throat.
You simply woke up one morning, loneliness and frustration bleeding tears into your lidless eyes, your palms cold and sad.

[iii]
Alas!
It is the exuberance of your love, darling,
that saturates the corners of my mind, my world -
a cliche that finds itself cast aside once so often,
and once more redeemed just the same.

Step in, half stranger, half twin -
so present, yet so elusive -
and hold me.
Allow me to tumble into your strange and familiar embrace,
let me fall as prey.
The hunter hidden in your lips and fingertips.
The wilderness of the heart.

[iv]
Repetition, repetition, repetition.
I love you I love you I love you.
The ecstasy and elation that often confuse or awaken.
I keep finding myself falling through the cracks of my heart
into oceans of valium,
orange balloons,
rain,
laughter,
pain,
flames,
you.
I love you I love you I love you.
But I cant find my voice.

- amidst it all
You feel paralysed,
A squashed bug under a shoe.