14 Jul

Damn Words.

In my head it all makes sense.

On the superficial level, I tell people that up is down, left is right, night is day and all that “opposite” crap. That’s stuff that’s easy to explain and many simply accept it, even if they can’t imagine it.

Yet it’s a lie, like the superficial definition of beauty after cosmetic surgery. Instead, the truth is much deeper and stranger, so it’s labeled “psychosis,” “stupid,” or “useless” by those who poke their fingers in the wounds of others to see if they’re real.

In my head, I bleed from so many holes that an army of tentacles wouldn’t even know where to start investigating. Yet I’m not wounded, I’m not hurt or dying, at least not any more nor less than any others with my superficial definition of beauty. I mean, I also have wings and a jet pack, wheels and legs, and a double army of tentacles that keep you away from my wounds, my prizes, my solitude, my children, my everything, my nothing.

Damn words.

They don’t mean a thing, do they.

(Don’t bother answering, it’s not really a question, just a collection of words. “Damn words.” See?)


I listen to people talk — real people who breathe, work, sleep, eat, etc. — and hear so many words (many of them repeated) yet so little is said. So why not use a lot of different words and paint an abstract painting that’s merely called “Untitled”? I see beauty (the real, non-superficial kind) while they scratch their heads and complain that it doesn’t look like anything, because, you know, it’s supposed to look like something, you know? How can it, you know, look like anything, if it looks like (DON’T SAY “YOU KNOW” EVER AGAIN DAMMIT!) nothing?

It’s a valid question. Really, it is! But only if it’s really looking for an answer and not merely arrogance or obstinance disguised as curiosity. So I wonder, are they genuinely curious why the bird has four wings, the tattoo is talking to obsession, the splotch is red and over there, the chord is uncomfortable, up is blue and down is unreasonable?

The truth is that I don’t really know what it means, I don’t really get it, I don’t have answers for you.

Yet in my head, somehow, it all makes sense.