oh take this longing
from my tongue
all the useless things these hands have done
let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love.
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird’s life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and wilful as a bird’s heart?
—Joyce, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
(Source: aclockwithouthands)
he appeared as an extra in every one of his movies. way creepier and fantastic version of where’s waldo.
(via horrorking)
this is how i held on too tight to changes. but it still came out beautiful. and it still made you smile.
(Source: ytinifni)
(Source: confessionsofamichaelstipe)
what you used to do to me
I’m new to this blogging thing. The impulse came to me because the thoughts, tastes and images of a life swirl and eddie like smoke, linger and then dissipate only to mingle, unseen, with the surrounding world. and so i thought maybe this could be a place to in them down, to map out the labyrinth of words and colours that make up the walls of this small life. but i’m really not sure what i want this to be yet. not sure anyone will even read it. so, with no fear of judgement (as this will probably land somewhere in the dark void of unseen e-things) here is a poem that i wrote. the typography in real life is much better. i just haven’t quite cracked the whole html thing… perhaps a first clue that real paper > than white internet voidspace?
Gravity
If I step too close
your whole
body,
a different gravity
threatens
my own,
throws me
off kilter
my moons run wild
scatter
like marbles
mind swells
with a foreign tongue
a hunger at the core
hot
the wet fire of a planet
tidals toward you
how can such a weight
set upon a body
so small
a smudge of flesh
near you I’m huge,
everything
orbits
around my light
but if I come
too close—
you carve me
dwarfed comet caught
in a separate circuit,
small
small stone.
Delirium (formally Delight)
