

21-go maj 2006 latas time rolls on, i find myself attempting to simply roll with it & most days this is possible, but then other days i feel like i need to walk & walk & walk in order to make time do its job. on those days the world reminds me of my place in time & the way that with time the world rolls on too, making alterations to the status quo i once accepted, but abdicated. sometimes i crave to be recontextualised in different time frames, but that would mean abandoning this one that has so lovingly but temporarily held me. there will always be a visceral pulling, yearning for me to refind the constantly changing cocoon i craved to call home, again. time21-go maj 2006 lat


29.03.2006so i secretly read her thoughts about her intriguing new polish/french lover, how much she adores him. excited by his enigmatic nature & the way he dances around her in his gentlemanly fashion. chivalry - something more foreign to her than his accent. she struts in enticed by the prospect of his existance entangled with hers; messines is so romantic. "he's intoxicating" she says with her idilic eyes idolising. im reminded of my adoration for a boy who once seemed so foreign, now his unsolved status is a comfort. tip toeing around the dirty socks on the floor & the only truth that he's uttered all afternoon, she was restrained but the reality29.03.2006


convent girlscastrated from the familiar, your child now churches possesion. no native words greet her ears; carved by the crucifix she is created, little girls become biblical interpretations. boarders behind gods frosted windows -convent girls
as conscripted pilgrims they're taught complacency. cook. clean. deliver. disect. explain. evolve. institutionalising commonality, not communism (!) beliefs; history; values; knowledge is learnt not interpretted. their maleable framses weep not for a moth


relativityhe might as well wear a white coat, she loved him for his simpleness. he'd made being normal almost an art form, whilst still being 'weird'. what a conundrum. he was a work of art to her. she hated him for his normalcy but clung to him because of it. she swallowed a double dosage of sleep filled placebos every night, whereas all that was really need was for him to tickle her back till her body exhausted itself. instead she chose the chemical love affair, maybe chose isn't correct, maybe it chose her - but that'd make her a victim and she's stronger than that. he kept her sane, well relatively. he reminded her to eat and introduced her to notirelativity


hung over as the oven in maidathe music falls away.we have it in our secret windows & our understanding. he says if he was still a christian this would be his favourite song. you will believe you have gone insane. when i listen to it the words don't mean anything to me about a god, they raise me to that point where i am looking down into your eyes, into my own shallow life, and seeing it spread out before me like the surface of the sea. when you see the face of god, you will die. this is all a dream; a dream in death. love, god, transcendance, revolution. every word we have to describe the intangible power, the rhythms of the world, the music of these packs of bodies comihung over as the oven in maida
if you have time, take a look at this awesome site for writing.
ublot.
[link]
--
MAIKOR
--
You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
your writing is tranquility on a crisp winter apple
--
She burns like the sun...
hope you don't mind the watch.
--
Do what you love. Fuck everything else.
[link]
i like what you have.
im friending you.
--
Previous Page1234Next Page