Let these words be footsteps, for I have a long way to travel...
Let them walk the dirty streets, line the sidewalks and make their way across the crying grass
Let them stand and breathe and smoke and pant in the cold winter evenings, and when I'm tired and have fallen down, let them buckle to their feet and arc around me, ever watchful, ever vigilant.
I want my words to be actions
Give them flesh and bones, I say to myself, give them eyes filled with hunger and desire, so that I may continue writing and they may fight with my throughout the sleepless nights...
Let them walk the dirty streets, line the sidewalks and make their way across the crying grass
Let them stand and breathe and smoke and pant in the cold winter evenings, and when I'm tired and have fallen down, let them buckle to their feet and arc around me, ever watchful, ever vigilant.
I want my words to be actions
Give them flesh and bones, I say to myself, give them eyes filled with hunger and desire, so that I may continue writing and they may fight with my throughout the sleepless nights...
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