Emphatically.

Of course I’m the first one to escape this dying town.

I was the first to fall in love,
and the first to fall apart.

The first to replicate despair,
and the first to generate art.

First to kindle an orignal thought,
First to draw an athiestic breath.

First to remember passion’s promise,
First one to forget.

First to pretend,
First to hate,
First to swear at God, revel, laugh in madness, peer at sanity;

and certainly first to fornicate.

First to die
and be reborn;
First to never really change.

First to walk into a contradiction,
deny a fatherly dictum;
First to linger within a paradox
and survive.
First to swim in an ocean of lies and cling
to a single thread
of meaning.

First to revel in the infinite ethereal;
First to admit he’s
mortal,
fragile,
ephameral.

First to dance in the
less-than-dimensional,
more than conventional
and reprise the role of destined for ruin and cheat it.

First to get high.
First to commune with music.

First to lose humanity.
First to value it.

First to live forever in a single moment,
and see the cloth of reality warped by the
sensual, contextual,
limitless
beautiful
broken
imagination
of a mad man.

Of course I’m the first one to get out of this dying town.


Willie Watt

9/8/14

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