My city We flirt and we engage in a game of power. We pretend we do not love each other, but when I think of you I do so as if you were a lover. Difficult, sanguine, fickle, distant, savage - beautiful, compressed, irreverent, and occasionally, very very funny. You encourage the romantic in the poet, but such poetry is weak and sentimental. I will never write you a love song. I will use you as you use me, bleed you as you bleed me. I think that if I know more of your history and politics, I will understand better, know better. Knowing is a way of possessing. But I think, you should never be mine, just as you will never completely win me over. If we cannot be equals then let's forget about it! I could care less how sublime the food (supposedly) is. Rest assured I hate you with a passion. But not enough to pin you down, give you a name, to tell you what you are. You are a crazy city, and I am crazy to let you live in me.

It's obvious who will win.

written after a whole day spent in town, filming at various locations

Labels: sweet misery

  ¶ 10:03 PM