Originally written on paper. A passage that flows weightlessly with the fluidity of the pen.
Relax yourself and read this out loud. Pause at the commas. Inhale at the periods. Get into the rhythm of it. Let it go by itself.
The air is hyper electric, the sensation is inescapable. Exaggerated gestures, wild eyes, God-man personified in the truth of an orgy of ideas that moves the cigarette smoke to tumble and weave fluidly - an improvisation that will never be governed by natural laws and can only possibly go to infinity ascending the bone, flesh, and skin that can tear and rot and break and ruin, collisions of the souls of you and me and her that impart waves which bounce off walls and ceilings never deaccelerating, never losing momentum, seeping out the window and straight into the sky and more and more into the vast space of dark matter reaching the mouth of God as it inhales and exhales as we feel it.
A. Prolonged. Breath.
Late night hours and cups of coffee but no dark circles around our eyes nor the body tired nor the burden of the body itself felt, but we are up in the air in that infinite space between our glowing eyes staring right into each other as we laugh and feel alive, but not just simply alive, but alive in that we can feel and hear and see and taste the warmth of our most intimate unification - our spirits dancing and tangling and flowing into one another producing a matter with limitless potential, waiting to explode and explode indefinitely, never to be exhausted.
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4 comments:
Sounds like a wonderful life.
Thanks for the comment. Sounds like a wonderful life? Moments like these are few and far between. The rest of it is a sick droooollll, always feeling too restless, mental insomnia.
But, ya got any criticisms? Try to not make them too vague. Make my mistakes clear.
Hey man, to be truthful, I'm not really finding or feeling any criticisms. When you put up your work you really are too picky about it, and you always make sure it's good shit.
But I'll always criticize if I feel it necessary. And I know you really want it. Because you want to become better at writing.
What I can do in return though, is tell you what I like about this.
I like how this passage is filled up with so much emotion and thought yet it doesn't seem too over-exaggerated. A problem with which I find in most people to try to write greatly. Maybe I'm wrong, and I've been studying the romantics too much in Mr. Brogdon's, but either way that's what I think.
I really feel this piece. Especially the middle part- A. prolonged. breath. The sense of timing is beautiful from then on, but I got lost a bit in the beginnig.
I see the image of a crazed, brilliant minded man writing his guts onto paper. That's just one interpretation. Maybe I am picturing you writing this.
When you mention the souls colliding, I am lost with the excessive wordage. I see the images, but perhaps if you broke it in half from the part where you mention the weaving of cigarette smoke. That might wreck your momentum, but for simple readers like me, it could help.
What you wrote about is pretty amazing; the feeling of one solid moment and the infinite universe. I have moments like that were I wake up in the middle of the night and just write the beginning of a great thought, though it doesn't always develope. What may I ask influenced you on this piece specifically?
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