Sibyl Vane

"As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It annihilates the desire to act. It is superbly sterile. The books that the world calls immoral are precisely the books that show the world its own shame."        - O. Wilde

The picture is changing.

Everytime you look the image seems older. A little gray in the hair, a bit more furrow in the brow. It's you, but it's not. Frozen in space. Held there in time. An angels subplot, a single drop of mercury.

Too toxic for one to hold,
yet so vital to my release.

Amistad. Attica. Oubliette. Libertines.
Lightning is my girl. Bull in the heather.
Mike Ness, Mike Ness, Mike Ness.

The picture is aging.

It's almost like this writing. This disjointed picture of words that won't seem to come together. I have the corners, but can't (or don't want to) fill in the middle of the puzzle. I mean, I kinda know what it is that I'm trying to say, but for some reason I'm not in a place yet where I can just come out and call it by name.

Art annihilates the desire to act.

The image has gone only you and I
It means nothing to me..
This means nothing to me
Oh, Vienna.

[Listening to: Detroit Grand Pu Bahs, "Sandwiches"]