“She’s a catastrophe with a pretty mind and a dirty mouth” – but that’s just how you like it
(Not sure who wrote this, but I saw it on some picture) ^
We’re all over the place, but in the way you’d want to be. Touched down in the land of promises by the time everyone else is opening their eyes – and not a soul knows the things we’ve left all over the eastern seaboard. No one will ever know, because we’ve left no discerning marks, no material trace – Only the ephemeral scent of an ideal, a dream for only one night. She thinks about art all day, but not in the way you’d think about it. I mean, she looks in that mirror and I don’t think she sees herself. I don’t know what I see anymore; Or even who! I look through a lot of it. It takes a great deal for me to focus back in on all the minuscule meanderings of conversation, if we can call it conversing, that has diluted the creativity in this place.
She wants the original, she wants to feel what there is for the first time; And we all know that it definitely gets harder – The things we start writing up get more intricate, get more wild, and go far deeper. We drown for a time. Yes, it seems like a trip. It’s all phantasmagorical but this, this isn’t it.
Lady, how long have you been wading here?
You of all should know that it’s the perfect spot.