#davidlynch
A friend of mine
though I never met him
a man, a soul, as to a soul,
spoke of fish as ideas,
ideas as spirit,
spirit as if a dream.
You sleep but do not dream
when you dive for the big fish.
There they wait
your whims and themes
below the murky depth.
And I,
a flower upon the waking world.
I am lesser for your passing,
but know your words live on,
and therefore I still fish
fish for the big fish
in that murky dark.
I know my fish still waits.
So I dream in its dark slumber,
waiting, waiting, waiting.
The tendrils of my means
creep out to find me,
saying
wait, wait, wait
your life is still not complete.
But reveries of old,
stories never told,
a deep dark mist,
a yearning hollow,
a dust of dusk tomorrow,
a heart like a sea
silent after the storm has died.
That
and there
this again.
We are glorious suns died
in a city without sun,
a world beyond sin,
a hope so ancient
it is embedded on our eyelids,
a yearning so deep
we cannot sleep without it.
As I age,
as I dream,
the fish never sleep.
But I
I fish.
Fish for my big fish.
Still.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
Two men stood in front of me –
One he used to be and one he is now.
One of them told me: “I’m the lesser of two evils,”
But the other reminded: “You and I, we’re not that different.”
A slight fear ran up and down my spine,
I loved them both but could not decide.
I looked them in the eyes, so blue and so dark,
Their gaze left a heart-shaped mark.
A man stood in front of me –
“I’m the lesser of two evils,” he said.
I took him to the grave where she was laid
And for the first time he was finally able to see
That Laura Palmer was actually me.
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 5:42 AM UTC
I live for the nights
That tread lightly into the hours of day:
Talking to you about anything
Is like mind-fucking,
And not in the David Lynch way.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC