Analysis of the film "LOST HIGHWAY"
Engulf yourself in the dark
A poem:
Frozen people with prying eyes,selling secrets through the cobwebs of lies,
I stumble through the marketplace,trying on only velour
Caught by the vendor who gives me all the cash
I seek a temporal residence in vagrancy
The statues piss on me from monster caterpillars
Luscious wretch in the shadows trades sex for some chewing gum
This city is a living monolith,shackling its denizens with time
Some monks teach me of the sky to dull the edge
All the rest are lonely spies.
Take a break and see my Julianne Moore page.
More poems...
Lock
People talk of broken keys and decrepit doors
I lie and talk of dreams
Waking during sleep, choking under the curtain of vomit
Must men's shirts feature their buttons on the right?
Twist and writhe, caught in mass pollution's wake of waste
Sin and more sin
I imagine guilt-free glass, unstained by nameless urine
People cannot give away their keys
Locked in the shadows of strangers' misinterpreted tools
Cancel me my friend, for I have no package to send
Mix bood and look for your soul
It is not gone, only waiting
Forget
I forget the time
I find my mind in a muddy puddle
Send me thoughts from your recesses
I live as I forget
Fallen
Call me animal
Call me rage in the land of Canaan
Take me, forget me, lock me, love me
I am creation joking
When I wish to be whole the concept of whole changes
Forget
It was a cold night in the summer when I met the amorpheous afghan
Lyng in blissful solitude
A virtual cacophony of thoughts scraping through my head
Purple, yellow, brown: all better than the last I had wrapped myself in
"Have a drink?"
Whisper like sin
All her precious ambition sliding around like a luscious serpent, striking me with its shed scales
I said sure, and she poured me a glass of warm blood
Cuddle with serial killers and your state of mind is a reed lost in the stream
"Mmmm, good"
She wrapped her thickness around me and squeezed
A bit too hard for my taste
Stop
She paused
Never trust an afghan you don't know
Jingle-jange line goes a long way these days
She was smoking strikes that nite
Sitting in the back of the lounge, untouchable
The idea's almost unthinkable
She's too good for the denizens: snakey, sublime
Drunk words slide off her like wine dripping from the amythest stone
She glanced at me a couple of times during the set
After the music was done, I slipped down into the shadows
Approaching the ghost in the corner
I looked in her eyes as long as she would allow
She looked at my boots
Stop the silk-covered comings
"It's sure to be extravagant,exquisite", she said slowly, perfectly, enunciating clearly
Cold night, wet pavement
Striking a match, he sets off a stare
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