November 2010
If i’m an angel, paint me with black wings.
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than to...
“It’s not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join...”
– Stephen Fry (via suzywire)
They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living...
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting...
You are a little soul carrying around a corpse.
I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of...
Drinking tea and watching a film about Saturn, with a kitten on my lap.
“Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees...”
– Max Ehrmann (via misswallflower)
“People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with...”
– Neil Gaiman (via suzywire)
A true soul mate is probably the most important...
This just wreaked havoc on my mind.
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart? I am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches? - Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate,...
Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it.” — Sylvia Plath
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars, The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must most perfectly resemble them.
It’s both amazing and scary to me how similar i am to Sylvia Plath.
I cannot be satisfied with merely living.
He only comes to me in my dreams..
so sleep becomes addicting..
it’s not healthy, it’s what makes me write.
