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Bone Awl
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Artaud to Riviere
'I suffer from a fearful mental disease
My thoughts abandon me at every stage
Thus whenever I am able to grasp a form
However imperfect I hold on to it
There is one single thing
Which destroys my ideas
Something which does not stop me
Being what I migh
But if I may express it thus
Leaves me in a state of suspense
Something furtive which robs me
Of the words I've found
The star eats tilted sky
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Begins it's flight towards peaks
Night sweeps up the scraps
Of our gratifying meal
How could we distinguish
Normal mechanisms
If we were not
Temporarily deprived of them
A consolation to those
Who experience death in small doses
They are the only ones
Who know what life consists of.'
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