February 2010
158 posts
Dear Anonymous,
I’ve been thinking about what to say here. And I still don’t know where to begin. or end. My apologies in advance for a poorly constructed attempt at responding to your plethora of comments and questions.
Anon. First of all, thank you for your insight. The company is appreciated right now. I’ve been collecting the recent days filled with absurdity, and a whole lotta fuckery…and storing them in my...
2 tags
January 2010
332 posts
Keeps listening.
Muted by tremors and imaginary static. Their cruel and indifferent nature.
Now, how closely we tread the fault lines Dear.
And does a part of you despise me?
Because you are compelled to listen?
In stifled frustration, what do you hear?
The distant rumble of the unexpected?
—
All for naught.
Aphasiac.
Pieces scattered forever, from these feared imaginary tremors.
...
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I needed a moment to breathe. I’m ashamed of how I’ve let everything fester inside me. How much more I wish I could do. I’ve stretched and scratched these scars for so long that the wounds keep opening. Covering up the fresh skin you have so lovingly have healed. This man to tend and soothe the anger and sadness. Resuscitating both grey and red matter, mind and heart. How could...
neverstopquestioning:
Erik Satie - Gnossienne...
“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. A soul mates...
cargohoo:
The Beatles - She Said She Said
“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is...”
– Albert Einstein (via artpixie)
Assassin :: John Mayer
“Day and night I paced my cell, from the window to the door, from the door to the...”
– Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit. (via shynessisnice)
He reminds me, of how crookedly I bend my arms, how I always have had to scratch my own back. For he, rapes virtue with laugh tracks, he is the love fascist. In his eye, a constellation composed of all that I lack. The thickness, the build-up, the emotional plaque…can’t cover the intimate moment when I finally crack. And that Mack, a rogue, just laughs. He is the love fascist. He reminds me, of...
“The true artist-seer, the heavenly fool who can and does produce beauty, is mainly dazzled to death by his own scruples, the blinding shapes and colors of his own sacred human conscious.”
- Seymour: An Introduction J. D. Salinger
