Paroles de Shutterghosts
Proselytizing:reorganizing
all the flash photography
to set a stage,display a play
where everybody knows the curtain calls are like obituaries,
and scripted dramas
end in tragic parodies.
still your paranoid,
sifting through Polaroid's -
you know it's the pictures that you don't remember
that make you who you are.
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
overexposure, or underdevelopment?
trying not to dwell on the negatives...
this film is lost in all but the darkest dark rooms it calls home.
still your paranoid,
sifting through Polaroid's -
you know it's the pictures that you don't remember
that make you who you are.
so i put out candles and we shout clear
and send eighteen shocks (one for every year)
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
shutter ghosts speak 1,000 words a second.
but the world is not a still life
[. . .of a tranquil lake where a boy drowned yesterday.]
so i put out candles and we shout clear
and send eighteen shocks (one for every year)
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
like the photographs where the boy is me.
and i'm not who he wanted to be.
where everybody knows the curtain calls are like obituaries,
and scripted dramas
end in tragic parodies.
still your paranoid,
sifting through Polaroid's -
you know it's the pictures that you don't remember
that make you who you are.
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
overexposure, or underdevelopment?
trying not to dwell on the negatives...
this film is lost in all but the darkest dark rooms it calls home.
still your paranoid,
sifting through Polaroid's -
you know it's the pictures that you don't remember
that make you who you are.
so i put out candles and we shout clear
and send eighteen shocks (one for every year)
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
shutter ghosts speak 1,000 words a second.
but the world is not a still life
[. . .of a tranquil lake where a boy drowned yesterday.]
so i put out candles and we shout clear
and send eighteen shocks (one for every year)
through a frame that couldn't hold certain portraits if it tried
[. . .to save my life]
like the photographs where the boy is me.
and i'm not who he wanted to be.
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