January 2010
19 posts
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1 tag
A Paradox: Peacful Strife
I pity my own meaningless existence. I have no love, but that which taunts my conscience; I have not learnt, but that which hath been discovered before; I have not taught, but that which one could already know; I have not tasted the bitter mirth of war; but that which attempts to cloud my distilled vision.
Oh how I wish for my body to master the beauty of martial sword play. Oh how I wish for my...
“About your easy heads my prayers
I said with syllables of clay.
‘What...”
– Charles Causley
Don’t forget about me you whiley little fuckers, today is the beginning
1 tag
Gust
I gaze in solemn solitude as a piece of my heart is blown away on the wind.
2 tags
Have you ever thought that maybe some people are...
swimforthemusic:
thejinxer:
Like being alone was a gene, passed down randomly through generation to generation, choosing as it pleases. I thought about this last night. I was going to write it down but I didn’t feel motivated to. I had more reasoning, but I can’t remember now. I thought about it for a long time, it would make more sense if I could remember exactly what I thought. It did make...
O'Sight Where Art Thou?
My gift, or fatal flaw, is for nostalgia. I have sometimes been accused of demanding perfection, or rejecting heart’s desires as soon as i get close enough that the mysterious impressionistic gloss disperses into plain solid dots, but the truth is less simplistic than that. I know very well that perfection is made up of frayed, off-struck mundanities. I suppose you could say my real weakness...
