journal no. 4: moi, s'il vous plait

the melody



i'm so tired of words. always words, words, words spinning in my head. failing to translate my pain to poetry. how useless language has become to me. i crave action. not description. when i feel utterly happy i wish to laugh and laugh until i cry. and when i am pensive i should like to remain silent and study figures and nature. if i desire to learn something new, let me sit and study and think. when i am angry i beg to roar and punch and scream and claw. to e x p r e s s. to feel honestly and not to manipulate or lie or filter my psyche. i beg to be me.