News Flash: The New Flesh!
10/16/24 Starting something new
I’ve recently started scheduling posts for Tuesdays and Thursdays of Letterboxd reviews I’ve written in the past and am in some way proud of. I’ll try to keep some variety in when they were written, at least alternating a bit so not everything is very old or quite recent. Other than that, I’m going to try to start posting more in general. I’ve got some things in mind that I want to write about soon, and hopefully, there will be more that comes to me after that. I changed the name for this “publication” a few days ago and have made a few other changes since then. The new description is more consistent with what I’ll be using this for, and I thought it would be good to change things as I want to do more writing that actually has the chance of being read by someone, so being more active here definitely seems like a good idea. Since these have still lingered in my mind despite writing them, here are some things I’ve written in my notes app on my phone, in the past and more recently:
i want to bottle up your essence and pour it in the sea
so that you become one and you are in all the things around me
i could never struggle to find the beauty of the world when you are all i see
but alas your essence is so true
i fear that in my hubris, your essence would be diluted
and inevitably, i would end up
losing you
Please, stop dreaming about me. If you’re on another continent, on another plane, please, stop dreaming of me. I know it’s not your fault, but I plead anyway. I don’t want to be there. Remove me from your brain, from your thoughts. Sorry, I know it’s a lot to ask. It might even be difficult to do. Just, please, if you can, stop dreaming of me. Get me out of your dreams. Let me escape. In memory, in mirror, in membrane, let me stand alone, at least for a few moments, on my command. That’s all.
I’m an old Hollywood producer. A part of the fourth reich. I’m a wealthy member of the music industry. I’ve got no heart and this ain’t art. I’m a washed comedian that doesn’t laugh. A rich politician. I’m a cosmic whore. No morals. I make policy a bore. Screw the plants. I hate the music. I’ll pass the bar, if it’s on the fucking floor. I want you to kill me! I’ve got no lust for life. Do you believe me? I hate my wife. I’m collecting money to drown in. I’m a greedy, selfish, psychopathic, suicidal, megalomaniac. I’ll watch you starve for a while, forever out of touch. You don’t get freedom. I’ll have a smile. I’m a song, written by Danny Elfman, that kind of sucks. It’s really just satire, but I’m for real. I don’t care about you, only what you fear and think is real.
i’m sorry, i know i’ve made it hard i expect too much and see what’s not it’s like i’d like to think you play me like i’m your golden fiddle a dishonest tragedy like you’re my favorite riddle a truly awful naivety but truth is not so, and so fickle like a difficult lie, when not confided the truth of it all is that this relationship is really just one-sided
i’ll watch you wilt
i’ll shed a tear
cause you’ve got thorns
that keep me from coming near
sometimes we waiver
sometimes we wait
sometimes we wander
but not as of late
we follow the times
we feel the motions
we commit a crime
they call it emotion
doing what we can
we are what we do
with no choices left
we do it all for you
in a world of beauty
but not of peace
the flowers hide
beneath the trees
read the number
on the wall
it crashes down
we watch it fall
i’ll watch you wilt like a flower
petals gone, your leaves devoured
it never showered
i’ll reach out a hand to hold you up
but i will never
be enough
we will not disappear like tears in the rain
will will linger like memories of a rainy day
I see your beauty. Is that you? I hear your words. Are they true? Do I see you? Do I see you? I ask these questions, but do I feel?
I don’t want to see you, not anywhere, especially not there. You’re stealing my thoughts, breaking into my brain. I don’t want to go back there; it’s just not the same. You poke and you prod, you wait and you watch. I don’t want to see you or hear you: not here, not now. You know too much. You’ve invaded my space. Don’t you see what’s happened? I trusted you, and now you’ve ruined this place. You’ve taken too much. Everywhere I go, you’re there already. You’ve got no end, and I can’t escape you. It’s all too much. You’re too attached. I feel sticky and trapped. I’m drowning in adhesive; you’re taking too many breathes. There’s nothing left. There’s nothing left. I can’t rest…
My flesh is thinning. The holes are forming. I’m skin and bone. I’m skin and bone. The body hurts. I can’t keep it all. Pores are bleeding. Skin is squeezing. My flesh is teasing. We’re emptying out. We’re emptying out. My skin is too thin. I’m bone dry. There are no tears, for me to cry. I cannot die. I cannot die. There comes a flooding. An aching wave takes me under. It’s alright. There’s nothing more. It’s all over. It’s always over. I wish I was more. I wish I was more than skin and bone. I wish I was more than skin and bone. I’m all alone.