Finer Points of Artlessness Parts 1-4

The finer points of artlessness

Part One

Here, let me help you- when you are using a dagger, you place it just so- see?tip angled up between ribs on a straight path to the chest cavity…wherein there lies a hollow with precious tissues floating free, vital bits and pieces so to speak- striving to contain something noble, I think.And so it’s neccessary to keep a stable grip and better to use a quick forceful thrust than risk an inconvenient slip and a lowering of trust. Subtle surprise is the sure way to success: smile winningly in your sheepskin clothes, mask your eyes so none will guess until too late, the gleaming razor edge shows…but it’s not really murder if everyone knows,I pointed the rudder to where the blade goes.

 

The finer points of artlessness

Part Two

But if you find it hard to follow through, thinking perhaps that my complete evisceration is not something you can do- have no fear, your cut can’t draw blood from these veins and arteries… they were drained dry ages ago- the needles in your words sliding in where you didn’t see and could never know; emptying bit by bit, the sad unloved heart of me. But… what you do not see is not therefore real, so no I don’t expect that you will somehow feel the humanity you stole from me when you sucked out my soul. It’s ok, I don’t want you to feel ashamed, after all… you are not completely to blame. Because you should know, if I stand in the street for too long, I’ll be hit by a car eventually and I strongly doubt that you’d even see, but it’s not your fault the risk I take and you aren’t wrong simply because no one ever taught you how to brake.

 

The finer points of artlessness

Part Three

So let me redirect your attention as I’m sure you’ve grown confused at my very mentioning of anything so crude as stabbing or a hit and run and must be slightly frightened by the idea that these are things you have done… or that maybe I would like you to do… or that you are doing now. But you’d be aware of it at once and see it right? If you did or had done those things somehow, yet I can see you still didn’t get my point…a message which is quite different from whatever you think… even though you have had more than enough time to let the meaning sink in through your calloused and apathethic skin. But enough of these metaphors: daggers and cars… I can see that I have pushed your intelligence too far. So I will just let you rest a little bit before I finish this eulogy in obligation as I certainly must…go over to that chair and quietly sit.

 

The Finer points of Artlessness

Part Four

L. John

What’s that you say? is there another way? Yes there is another method I must contend, one with a more subtle end. All I must do is turn my back to you. And while my eyes are away, you let little hints stray… to the friends and family that surround…and slowly run me into the ground. Then cautiously give the dagger away to all those who frown upon my now adultered name. Then smile as each one pricks and pokes and tears away little bits of my mane, until my pride is gone and my body’s weak and at that point you sneak the knife, into my own unresisting hand and slyly ask in a timid way, why I live, when ending my own life would ease my pain then guide my hand to my own chest and let me do the rest, under your “loving” gaze.

Finer Points of Artlessness Parts 1-4

The finer points of artlessness

Part One

Here, let me help you- when you are using a dagger, you place it just so- see?

tip angled up between ribs on a straight path to the chest cavity…

wherein there lies a hollow with precious tissues floating free,

vital bits and pieces so to speak-

striving to contain something noble, I think.

And so it’s neccessary to keep a stable grip

and better to use a quick forceful thrust than risk

an inconvenient slip and a lowering of trust.

Subtle surprise is the sure way to success: smile winningly in your

sheepskin clothes, mask your eyes so none will guess until too late,

the gleaming razor edge shows…

but it’s not really murder if everyone knows,

I pointed the rudder to where

the blade goes.

 

The finer points of artlessness

Part Two

But if you find it hard to follow through, thinking perhaps that my complete

evisceration is not something you can do- have no fear, your cut can’t draw

blood from these veins and arteries… they were drained dry ages ago-

the needles in your words sliding in where you didn’t see and could never know;

emptying bit by bit, the sad unloved heart of me.

But… what you do not see is not therefore real, so no I don’t expect that you will somehow feel

the humanity you stole from me

when you sucked out my soul.

It’s ok, I don’t want you to feel ashamed, after all… you are not completely

to blame. Because you should know, if I stand in the street for too

long, I’ll be hit by a car eventually and I strongly doubt that you’d even

see, but it’s not your fault the risk I take

and you aren’t wrong

simply because no one ever taught you how to brake.

 

The finer points of artlessness

Part Three

So let me redirect your attention as I’m sure you’ve grown confused at my

very mentioning of anything so crude as

stabbing or a hit and run

and must be slightly frightened by the idea

that these are things you have done… or

that maybe I would like you to do… or

that you are doing now.

But you’d be aware of it at once

and see it right? If you did or had done

those things somehow, yet I can see

you still didn’t get my point…

a message which is quite different from whatever you think…

even though you have had more than enough time

to let the meaning sink in through your

calloused and apathethic skin.

But enough of these metaphors:

daggers and cars… I can see that I have pushed

your intelligence too far.

So I will just let you rest a little bit

before I finish this eulogy in obligation

as I certainly must…

go over to that chair and quietly sit.

 

The Finer points of Artlessness

Part Four

L. John

What’s that you say? is there another way? Yes there is another method I must contend, one with a more subtle end.

All I must do is turn my back to you. And while my eyes are away, you let little hints stray… to the friends and family that surround…

and slowly run me into the ground. Then cautiously give the dagger away to all those who frown upon my now adultered name.

Then smile as each one pricks and pokes and tears away little bits of my mane, until my pride is gone and my body’s weak

and at that point you sneak the knife, into my own unresisting hand and slyly ask in a timid way, why I live, when ending my own life would ease my pain

then guide my hand to my own chest and let me do the rest, under your “loving” gaze.