A girl was murdered at my school this week. I can't sleep or stop crying. Everytime I try to put into words the screeching in my head I get the shakes. I am creatively dead for the time being... but still reading you diligently.
I'll be back when I get a handle on reality.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
quotes; because others have better things to say
The virtually unknown Edgar Allan Poe: romantic, mystical, analytical... Pieces of genius.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee- and their will
Sall overshadow thee: be still.
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds
Are lips- and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words-
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd
Then desolately fall,
O! God! on a funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall-
Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the truth that gold can never buy-
Of the trifles that it may.
Mysterious star!
Thou wert my dream
All a long summer night-
Be now my theme!
By this clear stream,
Of thee will I write;
Meantime from afar
Bathe me in light!
Thy world has not the dross of ours,
Yet all the beauty- all the flowers
That list our love, or deck our bowers
In dreamy gardens, where do lie
Dreamy maidens all the day,
While the silver winds of Circassy
On violet couches faint away.
Little- oh! little dwells in thee
Like unto what on earth we see:
Beauty's eye is here the bluest
In the falsest and untruest-
On the sweetest air doth float
The most sad and solemn note-
If with thee be broken hearts,
Joy so peacefully departs,
That its echo still doth dwell,
Like the murmur in the shell.
Thou! thy framing is so holy
Sorrow is not melancholy.
Deep in earth my love is lying
And I must weep alone.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee- and their will
Sall overshadow thee: be still.
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds
Are lips- and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words-
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd
Then desolately fall,
O! God! on a funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall-
Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the truth that gold can never buy-
Of the trifles that it may.
Mysterious star!
Thou wert my dream
All a long summer night-
Be now my theme!
By this clear stream,
Of thee will I write;
Meantime from afar
Bathe me in light!
Thy world has not the dross of ours,
Yet all the beauty- all the flowers
That list our love, or deck our bowers
In dreamy gardens, where do lie
Dreamy maidens all the day,
While the silver winds of Circassy
On violet couches faint away.
Little- oh! little dwells in thee
Like unto what on earth we see:
Beauty's eye is here the bluest
In the falsest and untruest-
On the sweetest air doth float
The most sad and solemn note-
If with thee be broken hearts,
Joy so peacefully departs,
That its echo still doth dwell,
Like the murmur in the shell.
Thou! thy framing is so holy
Sorrow is not melancholy.
Deep in earth my love is lying
And I must weep alone.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
i just don't want to eat ever again
I weigh a thousand pounds and I'm as wide as a house. The walls look like they're breathing. I can't even take baby steps anymore, I'm just leaping all over and I don't know where my head's at.
But that's fine because nobody knows because nobody cares because it doesn't exist because I don't exist.
But that's fine because nobody knows because nobody cares because it doesn't exist because I don't exist.
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