Closed doors.

Fallen by the wayside, once, twice, too often.

The unexpected suicide of someone close, yet not close enough.

Chapters I closed, once, twice, too often.

Open a new one, the pristine pages ready for the paper knife.

This is to you, you and you.

All of you. All of me.


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"The miles he runs around the world to escape, you run in your mind", she said.

My 'mind'.

And I still miss you.

Mile by mile, man by man.


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I am not at all the sort of person you and I took me for.
Jane Baillie Welsh, Letter to Thomas Carlyle, 7 May 1822


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When I first caught your eye and you decided to come with me, you were probably thinking you would simply arrive and make yourself at home. Now that you’re actually here, the air is bitterly cold, and you find yourself being led along in complete darkness, stumbling on uneven ground, recognising nothing ( Read more... )

Yes, I was miserable here. But what did I expect? I had brought myself along.
Sebastian Horsley, Dandy in the UnderworldYou love the hope you needed desperately ( Read more... )

And what am I hanging around for /
riddled with what his silence said?
Anne Sexton, Lessons in Hunger

Silence feels like a dead end.
Like a door closed without a sound.
Like the stifled scream of a tell-tale heart.


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"Can you keep from crying by considering things?" she asked.
"That's that way it's done," the Queen said with great decision: "nobody can do two things at once, you know.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass

You have to decide, you said.
Dangerous game.
Forced into decision, I often decided against, not ( Read more... )

O between distress and pleasure ( Read more... )

first there is a spark
then there is a flame
an intensity that feels like
the silence inside a roaring storm
push them into that tornado
remain in the silence
you set them on a path
they never forget
and never regret


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