The Moon Belonged to Gaudi 25 January 1999 The sun was Monet's, an ever-so-soft pink glow shone in the azure sky that Sunday morn soft cirrus escaped, whispering across, no wind leaves from limbs outstretched tumbled like down from a spilling pillow torn in the corner from fights at night between lovers full of play and life. The moon belonged to Gaudi, brilliant, but awkward, natural shadows, reflections, no light to call it's own, but beaming, screaming silence to winking astral traveling, celestial diamonds each facet another blink, twinkling in your eyes like dancing candle, light which is alive flickering, tickering, tock, both hands point north on grandfather's hickory clock, so shiny still old like the moon summoning night like every night except this night. The mask surely Picasso did paint, cubist, deranged colors struggle against truth wisdom, the logic in my head abstract, disjunct wholly separate whilst blending in to conformist notions oceans apart yet threaded together like nothingness purely adulterated, destitute, inherently devoid of touch or feel, pain I steal, but love I throw away, each day longer than the last, more time spent hating the face and loving thy wretched mask. The heart is Poe's pumping black, crude courses through veins, blood only blood evermore, nevermore pulsing, throbbing, oozing through waxy arteries; valves shut, the tricuspid has his orders; stop the flow, the right ventricle now is closed. But why, when, how can this be? why is pain greater than the will to survive this night? when did fear dispel trust, love, compassion? how can self hate rage intense like fire through the wild on days so dry you can feel your skin wrinkle under the sun so hot the asphalt clings to your soles the rubber changing phase mixing with the aggregate screaming like velcro as the hook and loop is quickly torn apart, separated from everything it's ever known?
Reason for writing:
somewhere, the phrase the moon belonged to Gaudi got stuck in my head, so i had to do something about it...i visited spain last year and seen gaudi's work firsthand, i think i had a flashbackBirth sign: Not entered
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