February 2012
26 posts
i'm as fickle as the nile is long, as the summer...
“I am always sad, I think. Perhaps this signifies that I am not sad at all,...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer (via jamsfranca)
i woke up finally and, lookee there, those attachments dissipated with my lethargy. sorry for your sake but not for my own. good luck finding solace in the boredom of your words, because i sure as hell haven’t found a single reassuring whisper. you know, i think i’ve aged about 30 years since the bowl of spaghetti first spilled onto the floor. i want an anullment.
Frederic Chopin, Prelude in E Minor
thenewflesh:
who knew a sunday could last so long? this is an extended infinity, with brief moments of rapture and prolonged periods of melancholy. there’s one aspect of my life that i want to carry out of all this and it’s the one aspect that i’ll be leaving behind. i want to freeze time and dance around in my granny panties for a little while longer. goddamn these nonsensical things called...
Cold Sheets: Doe eye’s are just the view into what... →
pixieskin:
Doe eye’s are just the view into what a closed book person can be. Dog eared pages mark the pages with answers to questions that all ask, or story’s that can always be re-told. Cryptic language and water stained pages is what it all consist of, with pen scribbled translation to try and explain….
any day the author wants to write a commentary on the novel, there is an audience....
“She was not lying. She belonged among those rare souls who do not distinguish...”
– Milan Kundera, Life is Elsewhere (via neverybody)
once upon a time
there lived a young little apple who blossomed, grew and dangled from the tree like all the other apples. she watched as each of her branch mates got plucked from the tree and popped into the eager mouths of the orchard hands. more often than not, however, these shiny and fresh looking apples had mushy mealy flesh beneath their appealing skin. after seeing so many disappointing fruits, she too...
red and black foreign manufactured wool and the corresponding spit shined saddle oxfords render us a many faced, rabidly snapping dog, teeth all barred in its thousand open mouths, warding off harmless strangers. still we roll over, sit, and occasionally shake hands, ignoring the fear our hateful obedient growl instills in only us. how simply at first we ignored the daily food bowl death match....
i have stared into the abyss long enough to realize i have the power to turn my head and gaze in any direction i please
January 2012
32 posts
“It was as if I had carried on living and walking until I reached a precipice...”
– Tolstoy, A Confession
neverybody:
Why are people such pompous fuckasses? No one is superior.
i wrote a poem once, so i guess that means i can freely attack your character after meeting you once or twice.
well yeah, there’s always that nagging knowledge that taints my perception of my own self worth.it’s petty, but i hate catching my own eye and i have to wonder who else does.symbolic shit, i’m dancing the polka around an issue i can’t admit.guess you have to accept that which you can’t change.
ooh yah, that republican debate.
“Days the weather sits
in the endless sky,
the clouds drifting by.
The...”
– Robert Creeley
“Love me, because love doesn’t exist, and I have tried everything that does.”
– Jonathan Safran Foer
(via neverybody)
there’s that word and even if i don’t believe in it for myself, i believe in it for you. if he doesn’t feel it towards you: so be it, you’re deserving of much, much more. even if your family does not reveal it to you, it’s there. their doubt- as biting and unnecessary and unhealthy as it is- is born of their desire for you to succeed. you know all that. you are no...
“It’s not that I don’t suffer, it’s that I know the...”
