there was a time when i'd only write when i was sad. or that i said i had to be sad to write, or that it was easiest to write when i was sad. because sadness meant emotions, and emotions meant words. emotions meant words because you couldn't describe it in a word - nay, you couldn't describe it in two. you could throw a dictionary at a wall and it ( Read more... )

“Mostly,” said the roof to the sky,
“the distance between you and me is endlessness;
But a while ago two came up here,
and only one centimeter was left between us.”

Eric Whitacre

On the tube today I sat across a girl who looked nice. There are girls who look pretty, and there are girls who look good; but this girl looked nice, and in this book, girls who look nice are better than girls who look pretty and girls who look good put together ( Read more... )

dead skin flakes in the winter cold
wind blows and i
am closer so


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time travelling and feeling all silly about the clocks rolling back. so many things i'd throw back into time - hopes i wish i never hoped, fears i wish i never feared. but time will travel; 2am will come again and hit me hard with all the things i wish i never threw at it.


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Do you think I’m wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple.
No, he said.
Why ( Read more... )

there is a point of time in each day when i want to tell you everything - it comes right before the time i'm too scared to tell you all that. i believe our fascination with time travel stems from our daily regrets. each regret a drop that over the week makes a puddle and over the months a river that runs back to a time when we forgot what we have ( Read more... )

I told Him there was only one thing I wanted to pray for and that wasn't the right thing to pray for and I apologised. I told Him I was sorry but that's all I wanted to pray for tonight. I told Him that prayer isn't what is said but what is felt, which is why at night I shut my eyes and ears and every other door to the world and let my heart speak ( Read more... )

Tucked into her bed, a little girl asks her father why the sky was so dark at night, and so he tells her a story, telling it as though God gave us tongues for the sake of wondrous tales. He tells her that there was enough darkness in the world - if the roads were a lot darker, the walls a lot darker, the fields a lot darker and each building a lot ( Read more... )

The rainbow is quite something. You cannot touch it, or see it, and it sure doesn't talk back to you. You don't even know when it will come out, but when it does you smile anyway. You smile anyway, and it's hard to see what else matters.

Crawdaddy: The thing I wanted to know is, like the song "Bold As Love", you tie in colors and feelings, right?
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