February 2012
My ears are popping and underneath the water I feel nothing but ice cold and jelly fish. My nose is bleeding and in the depth of mountains I feel nothing but tall peaks and weeping caves. My eyes are watering and in between the land and the sea I feel nothing but haunted greats, overaccomplished ancestors and voices of dead. There is nothing but dead here. and for some - that’s eerily...
Everything will be okay in the end. And if it’s not okay, Then it’s not the end.
the world hiccuped for a second, and utterly and completely forgot about us.
Today they hung. What an unfortunate term.
And when everything was broken; the crows’ nests fallen and willow bark peeling And when everything was used up; the bottom of rusty soup cans and sides of cracked dice And when everything was forgotten; the last seconds of a song and the last words of a preacher And when everyone had got home; little sticky fingers and angry mothers’ words And when everyone had left it behind; sunken...
I don’t feel it anymore (song of the...
You are beauty in a wreck.
You are watercolor and fraying wallpaper. You are painted in the dust. You are nested in broken sparrow bones. You are belted scales out of tune. You are justice in the street. You are twinkling eyes in the dirty magazines. You are coal etchings in snow and mud. You are beauty in a wreck.
