14 June 2010

Youth: To Pick Things Up and Throw Them Away


And there are the young girls who entertain themselves lovers of Men. Blooming goslings, darlingly daring creatures with rose lips full of words--Syllables and letters that make up nouns and verbs they've not learned meaning of yet; too hasty for adjectives that come later as a side effect of experience. And there are the young hearts of young girls who become lovers of Men--each beat, an explosion in their bosom echoing tremors throughout their soft, newly discovered, uninitiated bodies.

Try as they will to control this tremolo; this perpetual shiver of emotion--Their cleverness and subtlety, in romance--far beyond them, they imagine they carry their love in their young heart like a candlelight vigil, unaware of the neon advertisement that cloaks their secret truths. And they are the young girls with big, wide eyes open like mouths--awaiting a meal! Spoiled in their lack of patience and young hurry to prove they aren't young--As if youth wasn't incriminating enough of an evidence; as if youth were a disease, desperately sought cure of, or a torn, hostile emigrated country from which its emigrés desire refuge.

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