Idolatry (2004-5)

(inspired by a feeling, Shakespeare’s Juliet, and the words of john Frusciante, “we met you through your fortune, you’re made of high, you slipped through the streams of the city, we slip your mind. How high How high?”)

Its subtle the way you borrow our interest for moments of your eternal-grace-us-with-your-presence and we pray for more, and talk about you behind your back and wonder why we swoon so. Wherever you go we follow and follow your thoughts and hope to be amongst them. The crowd of them so illogical and genius mesmerizes if it was caught in your sweat we chase after with sponges and rags and catch every drop the closer to your intellect the better. Yet as you strut which we call a walk, we begin to notice the swing, we begin to notice we’re disposable you need but snap and have several new believers the cult of outside the box thinking, the new popularity and we all become junior high students again worried about the notes and maybe for a few of us the joints in our lockers. Its unjust I pin this on you! Its unjust you jest this way with our hearts all too unnecessary palpitations. I palpitate for you, forgive me. I palpitate against you, forgive me. You’re at least one sin to me, give me time to figure out which for it changes by the minute and by your very real facial gestures. Gesturing this way and that and ever so often gesturing in our direction and capturing our soul and squeezing as if to allow us to breathe again and then cutting us off mid breath to hold it so as not to make a sound or disturb your ear the hair on your neck your thought process. Your very beautiful poetic nonsense that we don’t even threaten to imagine questioning, redirecting, but only passing on “oh my God did you hear what was said?” As if it wasn’t already echoed through the halls of our very real eternity caught in sitting at your table and walled away abruptly at the whim of your indifference. Please tell me a story a joke a word off your tongue but end it sweetly with a smile and I’ll die in contentment for awhile. Oh its not right I blame this on you, its not right the way you show you blame us with your inconsistent attention. Package yourself and not your derision, sell us disks we can replay on our computers our music players our instrument of choice, we will play games with you and know joy we will walk with you playing in our ears and know bright days, we will spoon feed ourselves you and not know hunger we will touch ourselves with you and place you inside us and know true fulfillment. We will cry with you and laugh and dream and sigh, cover our wounds with you, mask our frail and freakish insides with you, sing with you, walk and talk with you, smoke you as comforting as opium pillows, cuddle with you, throw away our piggy banks cuz who needs change? Throw away our addictions cuz who needs anything at all when as one with your glory?

*****this is about hero worship and such, and yeah I had some one in mind, but I think its way out of proportion here, and I really enjoyed taking the thought that far… imagine being so extreme in everything… only a couple people know who its about and i hope they keep it a secret***