“ And it’s the darkest side of my heart that dies when you come to me
— the darkest side - the middle east
|seconds| a life by.
you know how things’ll go before you even get there. you see it ten steps before it comes. it’s not rocket science to identify archetypes and see the patterns. it’s rocket science to talk yourself out of what you want even when you see it’s impossible. that’s like making heart rockets, or something. you can’t be frustrated or sad. you can’t rail or complain. every single choice you made you knew how it’d play out before you made it but you made it any way. you made it cuz you wanted to. cuz you needed to. maybe that’s your archetype. maybe seeing obviously how people work but being unable to live by what you know is your fucking archetype.
Im biting my tongue so much these days I hope when it comes time to speak again I still can.
“ So yes, this is less than ideal. But hey honey, that’s life.
— Somewhere near and far at the same time.
2 June 10 2:34:07 pm
f a l l / s p r i n g //you want to fall apart. to stop being the switch that keeps humming through the night routing every-thing. let all those ones & zeros go. let them become dark analog night. you want to be free to fuck up. ruin shit. make mistakes. follow your heart into the darkness & cut everyone who comes close with your terror & ugly weakness. you want to be free of your mind. your need. your want. you want to be free of your want. you’re tired of all the tangles & strings. conditions. ideals. ideas. promises. dem&s. you’re tired. you should’ve burrowed deep into winter & come out strong. you bloomed too soon. too much. you want to let go of all the thoughts which fight for control of your heart. you want. your h&s are meaningless, empty, & coming apart against the incarnadine wash of human need. fight a little longer then.
20 May 10 12:17:00 am
l e a v i n g s //our fears are so many and so lofty we wish to put them down just a moment. we wish to stand straight-backed and raise our arms and feel their lightness. to stretch muscles balled and knotted free of their terrible wait; they wait for nothingness. we wish to see what might sit up above our normal eye-line. pick at this or that which always exceeded our reach. to set down these load-stones crafted of tear, and wail and terror. first, we must let important parts come undone from the bindings. this we’re sure will be too pain-filled. to awful. the tearing of old skin and scar wrapped and bound, come cord and muscle. we lift our fear with our fear. we are human reflex to the awesomeness of truths we cannot bear. we stand immobile, unfeeling and unable to decide what’s us and what all we carry but cannot put down.
“ You were sitting in a back yard on some sort of stool facing a really big old school picture box. You were holding it by its reigns, which happened to be peacock feathers and you were struggling with them. I kept standing there, staring at you, asking you questions and you kept half looking up at me laughing very jolly like.
— tasha dreams of ruzz.
