2001-08-08 - 9:36 p.m.

Where is home?

Where is my point of origin? For what would I fight? If I intimate that I am ready to cast all ot this aside for merely another soul - man or woman - would I not loosen myself indefinitely if I thought an Answer was near?

I hardly know where to begin. I am pliant and uncritical an naive - and I search and I live on happenstance. I look into the mirror and see a charlatan. I am giddy and I begin to crack. Do not come near me with maroon. I cannot live with the color of my own blood. I do not live with many things. I nod and shake my head and concentrate on assent. I am a Leeds to this world's Londons. A province. The hinterland.

'A man all used up'. Tender is the night.

I would like to pick up a pen and to write my own rememberance of things past. But I only search. Where is the girth within me? Why no excess? Is there to be no surfeit of emotion?

Every day she recedes. I wake up and I wish to be astounded. I want to see again but how ever will life come to he who takes everything for granted and who will not climb?

troilus

�

previous - next

�