The Unpruding of Eliot
how do I get past the phase of 'getting to know'?
how do I show I'm more than my Mango clothes?
how can I get him to show himself intellectual?
how do I know, how do I know?
is it me you're looking at?
or this flowery skirt of knee-calf length?
is it my scent or the cognac?
this is as good as it gets.
so I'm hurt enough,
and fate is misled by my signals.
therefore I shall not look,
for to look is to want,
to want the want to die.
however I will watch,
watch the dancers unfold
the treasurous breaking day
in the disfigured street.
but human kind
cannot bear very much reality.
[Rhapsod`F]
oh, I love u too.
n I guess that's all.
neither more nor less, not here nor
there; just a thought that's all,
that will not swirl into a 'Him' anymore.
[RedLily]
I'll have him screw me among the sheets of paper stained by his geniuty
[Rhapsod`F]
instill his seeds of bleakness n unin-
telligible light of enlightenment into our bodies.
[RedLily]
it's just the whole idea of screwin a genius writer.
[Rhapsod`F]
might he go mad screwing me,
just like he lets flow of his genius feats?
do I dare, do I dare?
[RedLily]
do I dare screw him on the paper strewn table?
[Eliot]
Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
[Rhapsod`F]
screwed on the paper strewn table,
time before and time after.
