talking of Michaelangelo.
Monday, November 25, 2013
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si me quedo sin nada // 11:01 pm
Si me vuelvo a quedar sin nada
se que te tengo a ti.
Si me vuelvo a quedar sin ganas
se que te tengo a ti.
Me haces sentir
más fuerte que el mar.
Me haces creer
que nada puede salirme mal.
Ya no me se equivocar.
Ahora te tengo aquí..
Ahora estas aquí..
Me haces sentir
más fuerte que el mar.
Me haces creer
que nada puede salir mal.
Ya no me se equivocar.
Friday, November 22, 2013
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i'm not ready for this // 10:57 pm
Life's great mysteries.
Did I choose one over the other?
Maybe it just never was.
I think he knows.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
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eargasm // 9:59 pm
Some voices are liquid magnetism.
Rolling, melty, smooth magnetism.
Slurred notes bending, slanting up and down all in one breath. Rising with breath or dropping, it takes so much control.
The voice is an instrument.
Same score, different instrument,
comes a different timbre,
and it's so good when it's good.
It's so, so good.
Oh, art for the ears.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
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i liked it // 10:15 pm
(It's okay if other people didn't like it, I thought it was sweet.)
The Fool On The Hill - The Beatles
Well on the way,
Head in a cloud,
The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud
But nobody ever hears him,
or the sound he appears to make,
and he never seems to notice,
But the fool on the hill,
Sees the sun going down,
And the eyes in his head,
See the world spinning 'round.
And nobody seems to like him,
they can tell what he wants to do,
and he never shows his feelings,
....
And he never listens to them,
He knows that they're the fools
They don't like him,
Dear Laughing Doubters - Sondre Lerche
Hear laughing doubters
I'm laughing louder
I don't really care
There's a song in my ear
I've been hearing for years
Somehow it always appears
-
memory // 8:48 am
A shoreline, bubbling and foaming with a crashing wave.
It comes and goes, dramatic as it is elusive. The fingers, the arms
of my mind, it reaches -
But they cannot bring it back, I am only a small part of me,
The rest of me is an ocean, dramatic and elusive and the fingers, the arms
cannot carry it all, cannot bring it all back in full.
So I have a little wave, some bubbles, a little bit soaked up to my knees,
but I cannot bring it back in full, like the faded glimmer of a dream.
And the words on the page tremble
and they shake like a very personal earthquake
on a minibus where you are not greeted
(but you don't need their pleasantries anyway).
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
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a whirl not going up but down // 8:24 pm
Sometimes inside my Dark,
I hate your very existence.
You fill me with loathing.
You, who force me to make that smile, that brave one to force back those tears still hold my head high in your company. When I really just want to scream into your face and spit on it for your fake kindness, when you really just want to show off. Your fakeass jokester impresses no one and everyone knows you are actually just trying to hide that you are the biggest most disgusting, banal, heinous, arrogant, grudge-holding person the world has ever seen. You disgust me, I don't know why you teach children because they are terrified of you. You are rude, you don't know what love is or care. You just, as you say, and I quote, "find your way through" people. But they actually really hate you. EVERYONE CAN SEE THROUGH HOW FRAGILE YOU REALLY ARE SO STOP ACTING LIKE AN ASSHOLE AND BE REAL FOR ONCE. You make me feel weak and inadequate when I rise above you. Of course I will come back to sit and fight you with my fake smiles with my pleasantries because I hope you see that I actually am in fact PITYING you and your ugly fake laugh.
In my Light,
I am so loved in words and in spirit.
You give me such undeserved joy,
it spills, overflows and oh, how I miss you.
I'm embraced and warmed by words and sweets and most beautiful dry, dead yellow flowers with a yellow ribbon and an adorable three legged hippo. I will keep them forever and remember how well I am loved, how spoiled I am. I don't deserve it. No, not at all. Especially not from someone who knows me already. I am waiting for that always and that every day. And I won't forget how much you help me when the water is rising.
Thank you, oh, thank you.
Just float. You don't have to do anything.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
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ella taza // 11:44 am
He comprado una taza azul y blanco. Es muy bonito. Hay algunas hojas secas en ella..
It's kind of ironic, the fragility it presents, like at any given moment, the million pieces might shatter into a million pieces.
