Find Her

don’t ask me what i want from you
it is not something you could purposely do
i used to want to make you mine
now i have better things in mind…

A wired girl on a heavy fuel machine can’t be bothered by pedestrian fiction but I am still collecting a hell lot of books.

We meet for the first time, this esoteric Mid Western trainspotter and myself. He greets me with a hug and ” Wow, you are more delicious than I thought”. Scared. Just a lil bit.
Thereon it ensues, this non stop trail of journeys, experience and people. He leans in to enunciate the finer points of the confusion and delight caused by accent failure.

“I come from Akron, Ohio. Like Bryson said..Someone had to”. Giggled. I am bloody giggling. I dont do giggles.

He looks at the abundant bundle of recently bought books placed on the chair next to me. 

“Why do you read?”

 For the same reason that I write. To embrace my failings. To trace my origins. To comprehend my causes. To hold a mirror or sometimes just to hide behind smokescreens. To devour old weirds and perpetuate new myths. To defend my life. To assessmble it, even more. To defect from sushi sounds of East Village. To decide whether another snort or a pinch or a stretch is good enough compensation, if at all. To illustrate my deviations from normal. To accentuate my reasons for informal. To thwart my demons. To suspend my limitations – as a human being and as a soul. To fall in constant depths of a Muse’s cerulean eyes. To wake up with a unexpected sense of disappearance from life and times. To transfer my evils. To revive my good. To avoid my body’s sudden turn into ashes. To slither from all edges. To justify my scruples. To find my scruples. To discern more seaside imps to create for. To take more transatlantic flights. To fly without falling. To make up for my lack of nerves in real-time situations. To merit the grime, dust and blood of creation. To fill perfect strangers with my countless chronicles. But beyond it all. To pull myself away from disintegration. The complete collapse of my soul. Because, it has a pull. It’ s a force. And I am an obstinate sadist with devastating love for chains that bind and sometimes injure.


~ by iconoplastic on September 7, 2007.

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