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Being an artist doesn’t take much, just everything you got. Which means, of course, that as the process is giving you life, it is also bringing you closer to death. But it’s no big deal. They are one in the same and cannot be avoided or denied. So when I totally embrace this process, this life/death, and abandon myself to it, I transcend all this meaningless gibberish and hang out with the gods. It seems to me that that is worth the price of admission.
- Hubert Selby, Jr.
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12 Poems Of Joy – V
August 25th, 2006 V
I have killed.
I’m sure to do it again.
I was breast-fed till I was 18.
It’s my mother’s fault.
I replay vividly my grandmother’s death.
Each morning. It rouses me.
In my quiet room, I plan the rape and slaughter
of thousands, near and far.
When I was a child,
the sound of our dog yelping at the window,
as we left for family outings …
… well, I could not but burst into tears.
It has never occurred to me that I truly exist -
- not until days ago.
I am willing to believe it may be true.
Related posts:
- CSI: Hell Creek
- 12 Poems Of Joy – II
- 12 Poems Of Joy – IV
- 12 Poems Of Joy – VII
- 12 Poems Of Joy – XI
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