an essay
the essay you write best
when you don't know
what an essay is
as long as you procreate because you think you must,
because all life is an assignment
and all institutions exist to manage you
your focus remains exterior,
focused on those who command,
guide your thought via their language
the best essay for the boy was always the one with the least fore-knowledge
the theme blooms from within itself
knowledge itself is never creative;
knowledge is serial, repetitive description, Essay's killer
a brain is not a maschine
but the place where lust makes its home
unkind words destroy some brain
so it was that the first sentence -sitting in the classroom-
was always the most difficult to get a handle on
like meeting a new friend when words don't help
because your eyes already speak
seeing the boys around you writing and wringing out word after word,
watching these movements and this obedience...
the next best thing closer to absurdity
time would move on, and everybody had already written much,
but my first sentence didn't make it yet to paper
what I much later found out about "closure"
was exactly this: my sentences could not end in my mind,
no thought yet
only words adding up, descriptive stuff, not worth their ink
and if a word was jotted down
it would create more words around itself,
but not a thought
you never fall in love with words,
these enemies of thought and wasters of paper
intimate thoughts not sentences
were the richness of our friendships
towards overflow of our feelings
not rich in words but touched we were by our thoughts
that carried us into timeless lust for life,
a rythm that no dance can capture
no bodies can perform
deep inside that lust you're no longer exterior,
you see no longer any surfaces,
you're no longer transported by words or inside them
and never driven by words that train you
the peak is of such a beauty that thought demands more beauty
and the next peak is the brain's word removal tool
ad infinitum
thus friendship in the deep of your existence
is never stored inside any word
then the essay's theme found ITSELF
deep inside
a sentence made up of a pregnant thought
upon which to build itself
into some structure that delivered sense
to the outside world
It was always the shortest essay,
shortest, because the theme
removed all words that surrounded us,
and rose from the lusts we boys surrendered to
And the next week
the best essay was read out aloud,
and now my voice took over
where words alone can't reach
and thus my essay went full circle
around and around and around
as if to create a memory
to store these treasures, to recall our sensitive feelings...