Look At The Lilies In The Field They Neither Toil Nor Spin

i am the outsider, the one nobody asks. i feel naked. i feel like eating soft ice cream. i feel like watching industrial television. i hate industrial everything. i wanna feel the taste of honey. i wanna know just like a pretentious graduate student knows the taste of their tongue because the flame of their spirit almost never runs high. i have a fever. i am the artist. i am individuality. i wanna know just like an explicit dancer knows that her "fuck you very much hip thrust" swallows you like her warm, sympathetic knife and then i already know.... but that is never enough because there are dark days lingering like a dostoevsky or a nietzsche jab to make you (not me) realize that all of us are living below the horizon...comfortably floating without name, without honor and don't recognize exactly that because all of the why's and all of the no's and no...yes...no...it is true...no one can be happy all the time and yes... happy days are here again because after all every breath is one in the same.

words© Wendy Rose Watson