Pain(t)
I came by myself to a very crowded place; I was looking for someone who had lines in her face. I found her there but she was past all concern; I asked her to hold me, I said, "Lady, unfold me, " But she scorned me and she told me I was dead and I could never return. Dear Eugene, Beauty. We try so hard to write ourselves into her story. Our story becomes one to try not to be written out from hers. Saturday I was in downtown looking at a Tiffany billboard. She speaks to the world what beauty should look like, how and what we should desire. Then she scorned me for being too serious and sent me off to a midnight from which I shall wake to find myself further from her, not for anything right or wrong I've committed from dusk till dawn, but for simply emerging from darkness to another day of inevitable decay, slip sliding away, gently written off and finally whited out. Sometimes not gently. Last night I was at home to the hospitality of a couple of ver...