whoops i forgot about this blog, no worries, im back, please enjoy this poem:
we spent purgatory in a basement section of
an ikea
as ethereal figures
we were soon bored after dismantling
the maze of products
unable to buy anything
or leave
around pyres of fiberboard
we spoke of missing senses (where were they)
we spoke of missing luxuries (where were they)
we agreed that J.D. Salinger was a creep
we agreed that Frank O'Hara was cool, Anaïs Nin magnificant, and Henry Miller somewhere in between
we wondered what Nietzsche would make of our situation and thought about Marx
is this irony? we couldnt remember terms of delineation, we couldnt remember a lot
we asked eachother, do you remember the smell of exhaust, of wet asphalt, of cut grass, of laundry drying on a cold day?
we spent purgatory in a basement section of
an ikea
as ethereal figures
we turned curtains into robes
made instruments out of the housewares
discussed futile exit strategies
around pyres of fiberboard
we spoke of missing lovers (where were they)
we spoke of missing pets (where were they)
we agreed that we needed to get out of here
we agreed that we were dead, that we didnt know how we got here, and we were somewhere in between
we wondered what Camus would make of our situation, and again about Marx
is this eternity? we couldnt remember terms of delineation, we couldnt remember a lot
we asked eachother, do you remember the taste of heirloom tomatoes, of strawberries, of fuji apples, of lychee?
we spent purgatory in a basement section of
an ikea
as ethereal figures
we melted plastics to construct installations
felt no pain
felt only abstract longing
as we forgot to try to leave
around pyres of fiberboard
we spoke of missing family (where were they)
we spoke of missing friends (where were they)
we agreed that leaving was a fantasy
we agreed that we should make the best of this certain type of being, comfortable with in between
we wondered nothing about absent & dead historical figures
is this all there is? we couldnt remember terms of delineation, we couldnt remember a lot
we asked eachother, do you remember the feel of soft microfiber, of an itchy wool turtleneck, of cold steel, of wet sand?
we spent purgatory in a basement section of
an ikea
as ethereal figures...
