He: Sometimes I feel as if I cannot contain all this dire and deceiving passion that ravages my soul. What is lacks in direction or facet is made worse a thousand times by the inconsistency of its presence and the sheer tremulous wantonness of its nature. I feel as a person divided, dualistic and desperately wanting for something more, something grander than the heartache and loneliness of a life so tormented. Yet, am I to live the art I so want to create? Is there a cause for this reckless passion, this untamed spirit that is trapped in my heart? Oh, God, there must be. I am the pen and you are my poetry. The light of your eyes far outshines the pallor of this meaningless and fleeting life. In you I see a million burning stars, I see the fair Venus herself, staring back at this worthless wretch before you—
She: Call not yourself worthless! I will not hear it! You might be a man divided but only so that there is more of you to receive my love. I would not have you change, I will not have you leave yourself, your torment is romance, your suffering—what binds my heart to yours. Poets cry themselves to sleep for want of the love they can only write of. Your tear-drenched pillow is for want of words that you may only live. Say not that you are worthless, for in your spirit I find my worth, and if you art worthless than how low have you made me? Do you so slander my good heart?
He: Never! Your heart is my life, its beating is my breath!
She: Then love me with all of yourself, and it shall never cease or run cold.
6 comments:
The way she describes the poet is pretty much me. And you.
It goes back to that Oscar Wilde quote where he says that 2nd rate poets live the life they wish they could write while 1st rate poets write as they wish they could live. Yep.
Isn't there some sort of happy medium?
Beautiful.
I kind of hate him today. Not your story, but the tall one. Somehow I just do. It'll pass, as these things usually do, but right now...ugh.
Blargh.
I really enjoyed your diversions. I haven't read about the life and times of the American pineapple yet, but I shall soon. :) I also really enjoyed the McSweeney's lists and am now a functioning email whatever member of Eddie Izzard's blathering troupe. Yep. good times.
Love you!
Did you get Gray's postcard. Or "postcard of supreme evilness" as I like to call in with the upmost affection because he can't just send me his address or a REAL postcard, no no, he has to do something super sweet looking like use all the awesome pictures of his completely jealousy inducing trip...haha.
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