benjamism

Christine


I thought I should write to you right now

because I'm thinking about love, and how the

earth plays throughout your form, and you seem

to find so much humor in just walking,

a slight grimace across your face, for how adorable

and soft, and strange it is, just to be,

just to be walking in the cold,

or in the sunny air, wearing a motif of cats and cows.

It's that subtle simplicity, and humor,

your know nothing about what this life is,

and you revel in that fact, you love the idea

of not knowing, when everyone seemingly knows so much,

for you i'll fill myself with whatever nonsense the air,

and the languages, can summon up

and I'll stack it high, in a way that means

something to both you I,

I'll give the walls names, and put particles

of your skin, and the smell of your hair,

so similar to the scent of the sea,

I can't help but saying it each time

I set my nose next to your hair

it's still so amazing to me,

sitting by the sea no matter where we are sitting

I'm meant to do something for you,

but no matter how important it is,

I can't get out of the immensity of your each word

so that the words in a way, just become big pillars

of emotion - Imagine a sculptor with emotion as a

reservoir of materials, and set them all in heaps

like Vincents rolls of hay, his thick landscapes,

It's because you know so little, and want to know

so much less, that your words, when you say them,

take on a meaning, so seperate from the things this

world has chained us to, these little deeds, errands,

that send us off in circles, and it's the flash

of your teeth, on this merry go round,

it's the only thing that makes it worth while


The spinnings, the nausea's of this world,

they distract us, and when we are lost,

it's not you and I that are in the room,

it's some reaper, some mechanic of the machine,

but finding our way in the mourning, from dark dreams,

nightmares, you saying once in your sleep:

"Put the box next to the tube"

I love to imagine what worlds you were building

maybe you were instructing me through this mess

I feel I have to end this, with sentiments,

nothing has more impact than the sun,

and the sun, what we are always driving for,

through our pain, and faults,

it's that violence and intensity, that makes us so alive,

so much for this world,

Our fiberglass horses are roaring,

past the spirits of the machines.