poem

oh sethy-poo, how i miss you
in your cigarette-skinny slacks
and moroseness masking something else.

your dark shock of hair, that pale, pensive mouth
like a neil gaiman sketch-of-a-joke
on the robots thronging rodeo drive

your blood-red heart dripping water
within a charcoal ribcage
i hope you wring it out to dry on your drums.

these lyrics pretty much sum up the entire drive behind 'hipster / diary of a seducer' the novel i'm currently completing:

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed

Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
-joni mitchell 'case of you'

once again, all together now ...

"the man who knows something knows that he knows nothing at all."