Look,
Sally, this is
dangerous.
You know how people own their truths, and you never know what's inside their heads?
Well, Sally, this is dangerous.
call upon any useless afternoon and I
try to gather myself, I
close those certainties in between branches, I
lie without surprise, I
feel unsolicited.
You know Sally, like most
ugly people, I can keep talking about myself all the time.
It's really a lot of fun.
I'm sure no one cares.
But I like to cheat myself into thinking they do.
(They do violence, you know,
they cross over without regret.)
Sally, you should give your
entire heart away.
Sometimes other people will give you other pieces, and they won't fit, but it's how things are done.
You won't feel
the difference, Sally. I promise.
Can I just say I like you being dishonest
It's crippling and you trap me in your walls
You also frown and smile at the same time while reading
I'm not supposed to notice these things, I know,
I'm assuming you don't mind
Sally, don't sit straight. Sally, don't be
silent. I know you don't want to.
Sally, all you can do is walk around smiling the best you can.
Frowning the best you can.
Thinkingknowing.
It's hard to move and talk and listen
with the ease of an artist.
They all call themselves that.
Few of them are (usually the ones that know it silently).
I can tell you, it's almost impossible.
Like attempting to draw a clean, straight line
and then having your hands tremble at the very end.
They don't stop trembling, for most of us.
Don't worry, Sally. I'm sure yours won't.