The Velvet Underground – Temptation Inside Your Heart
When the shaman crawled into her ear canal and pried her brains apart with his chipped fingernails, he whispered into the mess:
I know where temptation lies, inside of your heart.
“You can talk during this,” he tests. He digs his fingers in, presses his lips to the fleshy bits of brain, licks her neurons. He burrows into her fear center, bares his teeth to the pulpy crevasse, bites into the terror.
If you’re gonna try to make it right,
you’re surely gonna end up wrong.
(wrong wrong wrong wrong)
[V U.]
It’s pretty much that your head works like this: when you’re young, your brain soaks in memories like nobody’s business; they come in, sinewy and impish, and evaporate within seconds. All the details – the genuine smiles, the uncomfortable hands, the waiting to tell you something you won’t enjoy glances – all that shit soaks in.
And then you get older, and like your genitals so too does your memory sag and wrinkle. It stops processing, stops mincing each moment down. They come in, ropy, hanging from end to end. Recollections sprawled atop memories, crossing paths, sometimes melting into each other.