the human fantasy

[superboots]

i really think alex is losing her mjind

[beautiful liar]

alex releases language like a fountain releases water - a spray of droplets, each containing a million faceted colours, racing for the heavens.

[happening fish]

^^ hmm, two ways of saying the same thing

[happening fish]

i've been reading eliot every night before bed for the past eight or nine days, the waste land sort of helps me to sleep, and i don't really get that. that's something about me for the sake of contribution.

And though the poet weeps his lullaby
on the bank of the Thames,
the waters rush to their own song-
broadcast through static to the human ear;

If I could hear like birds
My radio would hit the river.

[thirdhour]

bastard. you haven't done me yet. and i dont even feel like what i said anymore.

[don't ask why]

keep soldiering on till it's done.

[happening fish]

You may search very hard for me;
push and pull and tear up the grass,
as though your roots are there, too,
sleeping away amidst the june bugs,
waiting to wake with the seasons
and eat them raw
as my heart is raw
and eats away at me
like the days devour the seasons.
I wish to die amongst the grass
become one with the bugs;
they would welcome me to.
And they would welcome you, too,
since your heart is just as raw
and just as open to the bugs
as it is to me.
So join me in the grass,
and we will waste away the seasons
the repetitive seasons.
Let me know if you want to,
and you may join me in my bed of grass
where we can kiss our mouths raw
and I can hold you to me
with our audience of bugs
and we will sleep away the seasons
just you and me
and the others too.
The weather will rub our skin raw
and so will the churlish grass
the secretive grass.
You may eat my insides raw
and act like it has nothing to do
with me
and hide what’s left of me in the grass.
I will preach to the bugs.
I will skin the seasons raw.

[happening fish]

i'm sitting in my house, and it's raining outside

my boyfriend broke a promise to me, and this means i'll have to say goodbye, though i don't really want to.

With a wave of my hands I spring earth from the earth
And draw it up into little cliffs all around.
It is the war of the elements, now
And the waters of creation are losing against my creation.

I am the guiltful severance
You orchestrate with reverence.

[thirdhour]

woah.


just...woah.

[clumsychild_]

You may search very hard for me;
push and pull and tear up the grass,
as though your roots are there, too,
sleeping away amidst the june bugs,
waiting to wake with the seasons
and eat them raw
as my heart is raw
and eats away at me
like the days devour the seasons.
I wish to die amongst the grass
become one with the bugs;
they would welcome me to.
And they would welcome you, too,
since your heart is just as raw
and just as open to the bugs
as it is to me.
So join me in the grass,
and we will waste away the seasons
the repetitive seasons.
Let me know if you want to,
and you may join me in my bed of grass
where we can kiss our mouths raw
and I can hold you to me
with our audience of bugs
and we will sleep away the seasons
just you and me
and the others too.
The weather will rub our skin raw
and so will the churlish grass
the secretive grass.
You may eat my insides raw
and act like it has nothing to do
with me
and hide what’s left of me in the grass.
I will preach to the bugs.
I will skin the seasons raw.

Now that is fantaaaastic.

Ahh!