we are all allotted a certain amount of time, a window of opportunity for happiness; and once that window has closed we come to realize that our hearts no longer possess the ability to believe.
…
The floor looked like the surface of a slumbering lake, all glass and the comforting illusion of solid ground. Smoke and mirrors. She stepped without trepidation. Sink or swim, so they say. And to her surprise, it held beneath her weight.
acquiescence:
and the saltwater
lapped at her toes
tiny digits,
in careful juxtaposition
to the grandeur of it all
one, two, three
one, two, three
one.
two.
three.
and she waltzed
on the water,
like jesus.
barefoot,
in a taffeta dress
a siren, so it seems
sailor, sailor
swim to me.
sailor, sailor
sink to me.
a dirge being sung
in minor key
lamenting a life,
resolutely
born into the sea.
on contemplating a dogwood:
spectral arms
draped in tangled
grey tendrils
fingers, wrists adorned
with the palest of petals
outstretched
aching for the sun
like a girl
yearning for a lover
always out of reach
and for a moment, just
her beauty becomes her.
as the light rains down
on her dappled skin
one day she will awake
the palest of petals
blanketing her floor
fingers, wrists barren
radiant, no more
seasons passed
the once soft,
soothing sounds
of the ticking clock
tick-tock
tick-tock
tick.
tock.
suddenly,
stopped.
as the coldest
of winters
swallows her whole.
"Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bull-fighters."
Ernest Hemingway
i’ve a feeling this isn’t going to end well.
(Source: The Awl)
he was born in brooklyn on may 22nd in the year 1941. this picture was probably taken by his mother, my grandmother, cecilia agnes hill though she was born a quinn. i only know her from the pictures i’ve seen and some of the stories he told me. he was full of stories, grand and unbelievable, tragic and devastating; some we believed and some we should have but didn’t.
current reads…
thanks jhop. you da best.
Wolf Parade “Yulia”
(Source: vimeo.com)
