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Houses are comfortable and comforting.
Things have their uses,
But I love her because she looks like a witch.
I look forward to her abuses.
People are cruelly physical
And not theoretical at all.
She loved me for my blue eyes and because I was tall.
She loved me because I cleaned my teeth and cut my hair.
If you are beautiful, or walk with a limp, people will stare.
The human is physical more than any other thing.
Theory cannot punish. Theory cannot sing.
Houses are comforting; objects are more human than human.
We want silent pictures in our room.
We want artistic lamplight in the gloom.
We don’t want the human.
We want a good bed to sleep in.
In that good bed, we dream,
And maybe there’s a kind face in a stream.
But people outside of dreams are physical, and that’s all they are.
Do you remember when the eye looked at a distant star?
Image may be NSFW.
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