whether I hate him or not its mainly a matter of nomenclature, maybe of degrees of separation between the meaning of two antonyms. Words had lost the power I thought they had, or their specific weight. He has his own language, so everything with him refers to the perfect art of philology, it is lovely that he wont call himself a poet in spite of being this incredible polysemyc virtuosity. So he derives and I laugh raising above mundane love, we both hate that word, thank the lord above. I know it is such a coward thing to do to write in english, it is lighter and not my truth, not my mother. I´m using just sounds that represent feelings that I don't wanna have, much less hear in my own words. So I guess I´m using another country to confess, I like him and it´s a nightmare, not because of a scary plot, but for the absolute notion that I´m dreaming soon to wake up. I don´t mind being call a comedian, I like it actually "for I have seen the true face of society and I have chosen to be its parody"
The sad thing about parody is that nothing is ever real.
0 comments:
Post a Comment