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Love's garden of thorns, how it grows
[NOTA BENE: THIS IS NOT CSI!CANON. This is purely for rachelm's and my personal amusement.]My flight's late, and I'm not back until midday. His key's in my pocket, but I still think about going back to my own place, sleeping it off. Dealing with it all later. But at the last moment I tell the cab his address ( Read more... ) -
Hold my head love, I'm sick tonight
It's raining when I arrive, hot close drizzle. Stare out of the cab window; it's not the city I remember, and it is. Gives me a tight sick sort of feeling, like the beginnings of a hangover ( Read more... ) -
Late afternoon, a weekend
It's a cold afternoon, and grey. Nothing like the last afternoon Al and I spent in the woods, but it doesn't matter - we're not out here for the weather. In the rucksack on my back the whiskey bottle is buried under a blanket and torch and matches. Our winter coats have been brought out of storage now, and I think later I'll be glad to have mine ( Read more... ) -
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Remember, my boy, there's nothing natural in nature. When it seems natural to you, it'll be the end. Something else will start. Goodbye sky, goodbye sea. What a beautiful sky! Close...happy... Don't you think that just a little piece is natural? That it could be possessed by a god? The sea too. On this day, when you're 13 and fish with ( Read more... ) -
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Leland: “And so all was, and is, in sorcery a kind of wild poetry based on symbols, all blending into one another, light and darkness, fire-flies and grain, life and death.” -
your laws do not compel me / to kneel grotesque and bare
You who wish to conquer pain ( Read more... )
