ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
and she spoke
for hours and hours
or maybe it was only for a few mintues,
but in any case,
her voice came closer to eternity than anything ever
could and I was in
a miracle
Beethoven composing the 9th
Schiele painting wally
Bukowski writing "goddess"
None were as vivid, as full of life and magic as
her
no muse ever created such a maddening shot of
grace:
lounging on the couch tossing popcorn arcing
flawlessly in the air
to enter wondorous cheery
lips
applusing; I'd demand an
encore and she'd gladly
oblige
4 : 30 am
we're both high. watching a black and white
dubbed version of Godzilla
laughing whilst debating the
plot, commenting furiously that
baby godzilla was the
most developed
character
and when the credits would roll through
we'd linger on the couch and
she'd tell me that it never felt
better
kissing me
and passing out on my chest
locks of hair tickling my nose, a scent
more euphoric, more grand than any
melody sung
image brushed
word penned
she was a
mircale
for hours and hours
or maybe it was only for a few mintues,
but in any case,
her voice came closer to eternity than anything ever
could and I was in
a miracle
Beethoven composing the 9th
Schiele painting wally
Bukowski writing "goddess"
None were as vivid, as full of life and magic as
her
no muse ever created such a maddening shot of
grace:
lounging on the couch tossing popcorn arcing
flawlessly in the air
to enter wondorous cheery
lips
applusing; I'd demand an
encore and she'd gladly
oblige
4 : 30 am
we're both high. watching a black and white
dubbed version of Godzilla
laughing whilst debating the
plot, commenting furiously that
baby godzilla was the
most developed
character
and when the credits would roll through
we'd linger on the couch and
she'd tell me that it never felt
better
kissing me
and passing out on my chest
locks of hair tickling my nose, a scent
more euphoric, more grand than any
melody sung
image brushed
word penned
she was a
mircale
everyone who has seen this has commented tellign me that's it's getting cliche, this never endless ranting, dragging it out, or mentioning random artist in the piece serving to make me to sound like an elistist prick. well, to hell with all that shit. this is my memroy and this is how i recall it. Im not defending this shit i write to anyone, but i defend my right to to do it the way i want to do it, how it makes me feel; for better or worst. the way i recall it clearly. it's not perfect, but if we demand perfect art, then humanity is offically fucked
I recall visiting a firend's house and they had a child, and when i sat on the couch they giggled about how that very spot was were he once pissed. you should've seen their faces, shimmering so bright. that's memories for you:
bottles of piss that are worth nothing except in the person's respective cupboard.
I dont know what im trying to say, there's no point to this. maybe this will slap some sense into you and me to not fuck good things up, maybe it wont. if it doesnt work for you leave it at, if it does well leave it at that too
I recall visiting a firend's house and they had a child, and when i sat on the couch they giggled about how that very spot was were he once pissed. you should've seen their faces, shimmering so bright. that's memories for you:
bottles of piss that are worth nothing except in the person's respective cupboard.
I dont know what im trying to say, there's no point to this. maybe this will slap some sense into you and me to not fuck good things up, maybe it wont. if it doesnt work for you leave it at, if it does well leave it at that too
© 2006 - 2024 moejo
Comments0
Comments have been disabled for this deviation