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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477072" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>You're Lonely</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You're lonely <br>and you think it's because <br>you're not understood<br>in a small town <br>where extraordinarily ordinary people<br>go about the business of living <br>without expecting glorious results.<br> <br>You show up catastrophically <br>on my doorstep<br>at three in the morning<br>and ask if I'll let you in like a wound<br>that has slashed you open like a mouth<br>and you know I won't turn you away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You don't know what to do with your beauty <br>and neither do I <br>without a prelude to the encounter <br>and so you ask me how to live.<br>I turn myself inside out <br>looking for loose change <br>in the pockets of a dream <br>to dropp into the begging bowl of the silence<br>and sliced by the insight <br>of a master in medieval Japan <br>tell you every step of the way <br>should crush the head of the question.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You think I am immediate and wise <br>and for the moment it's a useful delusion <br>as I look into the reasonable facsimiles of light <br>that are posing as your eyes <br>and see a painful young woman <br>trying to sail like a swan through her first eclipse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dodge the euphoric arrows <br>that randomly fly<br>from your toxological lips<br>and try not to get sucked into <br>thinking of you as a wishbone with hips <br>and outrunning the flashflood of the effusion <br>turn my attention back to your confusion. <br>The moon is in my window.<br>A muse has come <br>to ask for inspiration.<br> Water asks the fire how to flow<br>but what you really want to know <br>what you truly want to learn <br>is how to burn.<br> <br>You're trying to pull the moon <br>like a hot sword out of a cold stone<br>to kill your lover over and over and over again <br>like a wasp on a brain<br>trying to sting itself into honey. <br>If you weren't so beautiful, <br>you'd be funny <br>but I make the appropriate concessions <br>and listen to your accusations <br>like the intimate confessions <br>of a promiscuous nun<br>who's never slept with anyone.<br> <br>I listen quietly and tenderly <br>to the chafing of the restless snakes <br>in your angry abyss<br>gathering myself up like visionary rain <br>above the cauldron of a distant, cosmic ocean<br>to fall like a cooling kiss <br>on the flaring heads of the igneous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I milk the fangs of the moon<br>into experimental antidotes <br>and no fool around match heads and cobras <br>summon the wind like an ambulance on standby <br>to immunize me against the toxicity <br>of your insistence<br>I'm your private school. <br>Morgana la Fey at Merlin High, <br>eager to learn, eager to deepen her darkness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You want me to teach your eyes to flow<br>through a labyrinth of underground dreams <br>you've tunnelled through your pain like a blind mole<br>waiting for moonlight to wash you out <br>of all your crazy bloodstreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you can't live with the one you love <br>the way you long to<br>appealing to oblivious gods <br>maybe you can kill them into it.<br>If you're hurt so deeply <br>you can no longer feel your heart, <br>maybe there's an art <br>that can be mastered <br>to do it so discretely <br>the blood that unspools on the blade <br>prefers the wounded poppy of their death <br>that stalks them like a bloodclot in a rose <br>to the lonely craving of their next breath <br>to feel the edge again <br>that addicts them like the moon <br>to another hit on a battered vein.<br> <br>I can hear what you're thinking, <br>I can see what you feel through my fingers.<br>I know you haven't come to heal <br>or put your hand in the hand of another <br>that isn't folded like a secret loveletter <br>of Damascene steel<br>ghouled by jewels of blood. <br>I can peel the eclipse from your eyes <br>like an executioner's hood<br>and fill the darkness <br>with the music of diamonds <br>falling like rain from their crowns of coal.<br>I can look into your eyes <br>like the lies you wanted everyone to believe in <br>and make them come true.<br>I can teach you to hunt like a magician <br>in the twenty-first century <br>and dropping your halo down to your feet <br>encircle you in the dark clarity <br>of an inviolable sanctuary <br>with gates of golden horn<br>that swing open like the moon<br>between the wingspan of her crescents.<br>Or I can turn a word like a stone <br>and set the angels free <br>like petrified bone <br>amazed by the new lucidity<br>that remarrows it like the clone <br>of a woman no one can be<br>until she returns the sword to herself<br>she lay down like the moon <br>surrendering to the sea<br>in a holy war <br>that cut the throats of the waves <br>and made widows of the sacred tides <br>she concealed like the secret insurgency <br>of her own dark urgency.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But since you asked <br>and the flower is already <br>half-unmasked by the morning<br>and the truth is only a voice away <br>from revealing itself, <br>and the hour scratches at the door <br>like a cat to be let in, <br>I will tell you<br>what the good and foolish never learn: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you want to burn <br>like fire on the water<br>without going out<br>like a flame unwicked by the wind <br>that sins against it like a veil<br>it knots with nets of doubt<br>to gill the moon like shale, <br>you have to teach your demons how to sail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477072" data-title="You're Lonely de Patrick White" data-description="You're lonely 
and you think it's because 
you're not understood
in a small town 
where extraordinarily ordinary people
go about the business of living 
without expecting glorious results.
 
You show up catastrophically 
on my doorstep
at three in..."></div>
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