This is everything but a rock opera. (paperheartkid) wrote,
This is everything but a rock opera.

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All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

"We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked up at each other for the last time."

"Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken."

Oh Jack Kerouac, why must you be so brilliant?

Seriously...the more I find out about this guy, the more I'm lead to believe that there actually are intelligent and crazy people out there.
I think I just like poetry too much.
Maybe the reason for me being so enamoured and enthralled by poetry and everything about it(word-wise, description-wise, whatever else) is that it's weird, and maybe that's why I'm weird. I've been writing my incoherent ramblings since I was 8, and I've taken it seriously since then too. I think its just a matter of poetry becoming a major, if not pivotal, point of my life...
or something.

Maybe I'm just way too thoughtful, and maybe I'm just going insane.

Anyone care to share their thoughts?

And would anyone care to tell me why my grandma is listening to rap?
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