"she died - this was the way she died.
and when her breath was done
took up her simple wardrobe
and started for the sun.
her little figure at the gate
the angels must have spied,
since i could never find her
upon the mortal side."

-- emily dickinson

que puis-je faire?

qu'est-ce que je peux faire d'autre?

quoi d'autre?

the possibility of everything sometimes turns to nothing.

in nothingness we become.

"nobody cares how much you know, until they know how much you care"

-- theodore roosevelt

i think.
i feel.
i suffer.

"We were friends, somehow. But in the end, somehow, he intended to be a mortal enemy. All the while that he was making the gestures of a close & precious friend he was fattening my soul in a coop till it was ready for killing"

-- Saul Bellow

i am amazed.

right now you are licking back all the things that i have spit out from my life.

how does it taste like..?

it must be really, really painful to be you.

i let my demons get the best of me.

i always did.

Death, a shape, a thing. Death, a sound, a movement. Death is black, death is going back to black. They use my face. They use my eyes. They sell my soul. They touch me, they molest me. They tell me to stand, they tell me to sing. They plead with me to become ( Read more... )

i don't want to talk about it.

i just want it to go away.