Pitiful Shadow Engulfed In Darkness
I'd like to write you a story.
I worry that my words lack colour and grace.
You see, I have no poise when it comes to explaining myself.
I am too abstract. My heart is like an exhibit at the Tate Modern -
delicate and beautiful, but it makes no fucking sense.
You can stand back and stare if it makes things easier. Bend your neck to one side, to alter its dimensions.
I find that works the best.
It makes me more human than what I actually am.
What I'm trying to say is, that I'd like to write you a story but I worry I might fail.
How can my small page compare to your great manuscript? I am pitiful and too polite.
I want to be grand and abrupt!
I want to wrap my language around your name and split you in two...
but I don't know how.
Can you break my body into pieces with a glance?
Recover all of me, the dust and sinew, and make me as only you see me?
I want to be the only view you know.
