Monday, November 30, 2009
In times of sunken ships and sailors looking for land to call home. In times of desperate need, and for friendship that can last a life time; the storm will take you, the storm will take me. To the depth it will, I say, but we'll be together on it. In turning seas and death kisses on the brow or on the cheek, we will survive (just about anything). Plunge, plunder, and pulverize until pieces are made, until dust is all that remains. Take what is left and send it by sea, or by air, to all those we have known. Let our bodies be that reminder of ventures too dangerous for most folk, and let our particles be freaks of frightening things for even Ridley could not believe.
Away under palm-shaded skies, sipping a lifetime of paradise amongst the crashing waves that hiss and thunder in the most beautiful ways, we live, we survive, I with a beard, you with a bikini. Pinky swearing of our stay, pinky swearing for the rest of our days. To never leave, to never be discovered, this is just about the just of it; the best of it, and I don't think we could ever get sick of it. We'll build monuments, I'll dedicate mine to you, and to your everything, and you'll build what you build, and I will be taken, and inspired through the eyes of bending light, of new wave and avant, of each of your impressions to mark a stone and to carve a branch. What grace have you here, I am small, hidden under your belly, and yet you make my likeness in truth, I never saw a reflection so dearing. Once we are done with our hands, we will destroy what we have created, we will burn it all down only to do better tomorrow. Let's just say tomorrow together, right now, really, the story ends here.
T O M O R R O W.