No greater lover of beauty than I
I beseech thee, allow me an ear
"Art is suffering"
My heels bear the blackened scars of countless tours thru purgatory
This conspiracy against my very essence, is as much inside of my mind,
as it is not inside of my mind.
I feign fortitude.
The diaphonous weapons I implore against my demise at the hands of caretakers, denigrate themselves as I stand idly by.
Never did I have cause for optimism, not as a gainer of "things".
In a physical sense I only found solace in peripheries of multiple bosoms,
Excess in flesh, inspiring excess in spirit, surely
no greater lover of beauty than I.
Alas, my headrest will speak of the curses I spewed upon the weak, the attempts upon my life by the unworthy.
At times I existed as a dragon, unworthy creatures would have had me slain, if it were not for the plot
of the Gods themselves for me to speak on their behalf, for they cower at the judgements of men.
I speak, due to their cowardice, and for that I became relegated to a most severe punishment.
Still I encounter amusing thoughts at their expense,
the only recompense against such foul beings as Gods
Surely, no greater lover of beauty than I.
I will allow my echo to bellow across the dunes and dungeons, if it pleases you, do not stoop to thank me for I do not give my tongue in earnest gaiety.
But rather as capitulation of the relationship thrust upon me by light of life itself, as witness to the grand symphony, forced to summarize all that I have been privy to observe. The only console is
Surely, there is no greater lover of beauty than I
Curly Morris...April 2001
Posted By: Curly Morris
Wednesday, August 6th 2008 at 7:13PM
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