january, be kind.

i am starting to sense your location, you are somewhere in the basement
beating on a makeshift drum kit songs that I can hardly stomach.
i'm floating up the stairwell, with my fingers shaking frantic
thinking softly what a concrete mess we live in.

- location, freelance whales

[Alexandra Auger&Cürük visne]

some nights, i
watch you sleep.
and my madness,
it quietens
to a dull thud
of the heart.
and you, unaware,
dream away;
exhaling golden hope.

“your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks.
all signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away
by that rush of water. and still the rain beats down on the surface of the river.
every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: that’s it. that’s my heart.”

haruki murakami, Kafka on the Shore

2011 is almost here. 4 more days to go.
january, be kind.

you could break a bone, or a heart

in the waters tracing features, did they scare hardened creatures?

in that murky green reflection, did they warn you of dissection?

- turtle island, beach house

[witheredbones]

it seeped in,
(through the chimney?
the window left ajar?)
it sat at the table, unseen,
we had dinner at eight;
it sat between us
pronounced an expiration date.

i’m a far more flawed human being than you realize. my sickness is a lot worse than you think:
it has deeper roots. and that’s why i want you to go on ahead of me if you can. don’t wait for me.
sleep with other girls if you want to. don’t let thoughts of me hold you back...
i don’t want to interfere with your life. i don’t want to interfere with anybody’s life.
like i said before, i want you to come to see me every once in a while,
and always remember me. that’s all i want.

- Haruki Murakami, norwegian wood

whatever it is you need, i pray i am.

take your shoes off, it's time for take off.

fly with me through cherry blossom air, smell the sweet sticky sky.
like you, like you, like you, like you, like you, i like you. i like you.

- strawberry, adrian lux

[sensing-owls]

and hummed slow
the whisper of our song,
moonlighting under your breath
as a thousand different words:
a hand held, a hand holding;
only to come out the same.


here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart, i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

- i carry your heart with me, e.e. cummings

01.break! 02.the unbearable lightness of being, milan kundera 03.lemonade 04.baking
05.disney movie marathon 06.learning how to sew 08.harry potter (:

lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind.

i think i know what's on your mind, a couple words, a great divide.
waiting in the wings, a sparring spite, crawling out the foreground from behind.
even though you're the only one i see, it's the last catastrophe. place your bets on chance and apathy.

- slow life, grizzly bear.

[papertissue]

i've known desire
but never of a longing, so
pervasive. invasive.
a want, that lingers in shadows
desperately disparate from this life,
of an abyss; doorless. painless.
windowless. final.

trainwrecks always make the front page.

there's something wrong with our hearts, when they beat cold they stand apart

in the black moonlight watch the seabirds fall. real love, it finds you somewhere with your back to it
you know, you know we belong by the stream into the dawn.

- real love, beach house

[laurynholmquist]

some silver mornings
i wake in surprise
to a whisper of golden hope -
a pale glance of a silken touch.
a ghosting breath. you.

i want to locate a bit of you, cradle it,
say: this, there is no word for this. - jeffrey mcdaniel.

we're all of us haunted and haunting.

love, it isn't safe. you give it a knife and watch it maim.
love, it isn't free you can buy it off.

- give it a knife, paul michel

[papertissue]

we dream down a world -

- an urban wasteland:
a fiberglass shell,
steel, some plastic.
we are living better:
tangled wires hanging
naked; walking, talking.
we live in rooms that
smell of strangers.

call them home.

loneliness is the human condition. cultivate it. the way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow.
never expect to outgrow loneliness. never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space.
an intelligent sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception.
if you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment.

- janet fitch, white oleander

everything is amazing and no one is happy.

i am starting to sense your location, in an old abandoned mansion in a countryside in england

spirits trapped inside the linens. you're feeling quite at home there,
also feeling somewhat lonely; no one sees you in your pixelated fishnets.

- location, freelance whales

[papertissue]

i sometimes dream
of disappearing.
i think, some nights
that i could only be happy,
as a particle, floating on air.
then, nobody could see me
in my shame of an ugly heart,
always misfit. some kind of dead.

a girl calls and asks, "does it hurt very much to die?"
well, sweetheart, i tell her, yes, but it hurts a lot more to keep living. - chuck palahniuk, survivor.

there's cities upon cities of lonely people.

i'm the hero of the story, don't need to be saved.

it's alright. it's alright. it's alright. it's alright. it's alright.
no one's got it all. no one's got it all. no one's got it all.

-hero, regina spektor

[tumblr]]

i'm bones and skin and feelings.
at 3 some mornings, i'm only feelings.
i hold my head and curl up in circles,
sometimes other shapes too -
a solid mass of feelings,
a liquid weight of bones and skin.
i sit on bathroom floors,
yours? mine?
not dead, un-alive.
i wish for rain and there's only sun
i wish for sun and there's only nights.

"sick of me. sick of me. sick of me. everyone gets sick of me eventually."

you are the music while the music lasts

time it was, and what a time it was, it was a time of innocence, a time of confidences

long ago, it must be, i have a photograph, preserve your memories,

they're all that's left you.

-bookends, simon&garfunkel

[weheartit+alfie]

of cherry blossom clouds,
and the softest petals,
of the symmetry of your chaos-
are loves i never lost.

spring is what happy feels like (:
this is what happy sounds like right now:
01.sick for the big sun,phoenix 02.lisztomania,phoenix 03.bookends, simon&garfunkel
04.no one does it like you,department of eagles 05.sunday,e for explosion
06.l'amoureuse, carla bruni

sundance and moonface

it's good to be in love, it really does suit you. just like everything.
i'm happy you're in love, 'cause every color goes where you do.

-it's good to be in love, frou frou

[tumblr]

i re-read White Oleander, by Janet Fitch this week for about the 15th time. time to branch out i think (:

book-list for 2010, in no particular order of preference:

01.More Than You Know, Beth Gutcheon
02.Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger
03.Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

04.Double Duce, Aaron Cometbus

05.Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

06.Henry and June, Anaïs Nin

07.Invisible Monsters, Chuck Palahnuik

08.The Wishing Chair, Enid Blyton

09.L'Etranger, Albert Camus

10.The Road, Cormac McCarthy

11.The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald

12.Water for Elephants, Sarah Gruen

13.Bright Lights, Big City, Jay McInerney

14.The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
15.A Pair of Blue Eyes, Thomas Hardy
16.Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
17.Paradise Lost, John Milton
18.Damage, Josephine Hart
19.Bridge to Terabithia, Katherine Paterson
20.A Series of Unfortunate Events, Lemony Snicket
21.Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
22.Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami
23.Water Babies, Charles Kingsley

i'll be home for goodbye

everything's a sign, but still you're asking why love is across
the frozen lake that always seems to break, when you walk to the other side.

-dream, west indian girl

[gypsygenevieve+weheartit]

floating, like golden feathers
of a burning phoenix,
all the way down
to abashed ground
words of this song,
long restive, naked,
in pale morning sun.

i heart this last breath of winter.
01.home 02.momma 03.almost famous 04.sushi 05.hitch 06.romeo&juliet 07.penguins

could be an organ donor, the way i give up my heart

you're really loving this aren't you dear, now you've got me on the ropes out here
with nowhere else to run to now, just stay and face the music
it'll all tie me up into knots

-cartwheels, the reindeer section

[weheartit]

i think of you
in slippery seconds,
in quicksand memories.
in lonely crowds,
and quiet parks.
in silver sunbeams
and winter grays.
i think of you
and i think of me
and i think
of how it came to be,
that i think of you
when i think of me.


next few days:
01.my favorite poems 02.coffee 03.atonement, the book 04.the virgin suicides 05.homework

if i could turn around, i would tonight

love it isn't safe, you give it a knife and watch it maim

love it isn't free, you can buy it off

- give it a knife, paul michel

[weheartit+bones&style]

and together
we'll burn up
and out
like a dying galaxy
of infinite stars
forever never.

"what i want is to be needed. what i need is to be indispensable to somebody.
who i need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention.
Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction." - Chuck Palahniuk