I Want My Words To Eat Me TAKE II

Apparently collectors of Picasso painting would have his paintings screwed into the walls when he'd come visit becuase he'd take one look at them as say 'Oh that's not finished, I'll just take it home and make a few minor adjustments and drop it back to you tomorrow' and they'd never get the paintings back coz he'd keep insisting it wasn't finished yet.

Here's an update on yesterday's post, the lyrics are still unfinished (I didn't just compare myself to Picasso, not even a little bit).

I want my words to eat me

Like a big starving thing

Eat my bones my skin my hair

Till there's nothing left to see

But my words

Only my words will be left of me.

Still Hungry! Every night when you seek sleep

They'll thunder through your window

Just when you think you're alone

You'll hear my words looking for something good to eat.

I want my songs to eat me

Like a big starving thing

And lying dying in it's jaws

I'll hear the sweet singing

Of my songs

Singing me to my eternal sleep.

Lyrics in Progress

Some new lyrics I started this morning after reading this paragraph from a short story*:


Do you have any pets? he asked.
No.
Not even a cat?
No.
Why not?
I'm not sure I could care for a pet. I travel a lot.
But you could get a very little pet that wasn't very hungry.
I knew all about those things that weren't very hungry; my life was full of them. I didn't want any more weaklings who were activated by water and heat but had no waste and were so small that when they died, I buried them only with forgetfulness. If I was going to bring something new into my home, it would be a big starving thing.


And the lyrics in progress are:

My words will eat me
Like a big starving thing
My hair and bones
There'll be nothing left to see
But my words


My songs will eat me
Like a big starving thing
In it's jaws dying
I'll hear the sweet singing
Of my songs



Initially for the first two lines I had 'I want my words to eat me like a big starving thing. Consume my bones my skin my hair till there's nothing left to see but my words'. Not sure which I prefer yet. I only just scribbled these down today so by the time I'm finished with them they may have changed beyond recognition. They might go well with some lyrics I posted up here a little while ago....maybe, we'll see.



*The short story is called 'The Boy from Lam Kien' and it's by Miranda July