I think I want my next piercing to be through my heart with a wooden stake
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“And when you are old, I will still be there, carrying you. When your limbs grow tired, your eyes are weak, And your hair a silvery gray, I will carry you as I always have. I will carry you and save you.”
— Isaiah 46:4
Nothing has happened recently.
Nothing has happened and i do not know how to feel about this ignorance. I still wake up with an earthly groan. Every i still cover myself in black cloth and dead animal skins. Again and again do i walk through town in order to rest myself of the skeletons on my closet. No, instead of these dragging days and cursed nights am i left in a grey sea of droning beats and endlessy waiting for the time to pass. Many have told me that one can only do onto them this much. Feeling my body pressed against a wooden bar only to wake up cursing and raving about the things i forgot the night before. I have learned much, but a distinction i cannot make is whether i should prefer this grey sea of endless waiting as opposed to the nights of highest highs and deepest lows. I simply do not know.
Maybe the answer will come tomorrow.
Sie liebten sich beide, doch (Heinrich Heine)
Sie liebten sich beide, doch keiner
Wollt es dem andern gestehn;
Sie sahen sich an so feindlich,
Und wollten vor Liebe vergehn.
Sie trennten sich endlich und sahn sich
Nur noch zuweilen im Traum;
Sie waren längst gestorben,
Und wußten es selber kaum.
“The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.”
— Marcus Aurelius (via unconditionedconsciousness)
How often must i drag myself through these trenches again?
How many times must i be confronted with the skeletons in my closet,
As i clutch my stately lighter in my pocket,
How often do i have to be confronted with these words in vain.
Alas, such is life-
One of bitter highlights,
And promises in vain.
I stand in the glow of such bright nightly lights,
Because the dark fills me with fright,
Anger, regret and loss wage a war for supremacy,
I can still remember the tears that she cried,
Lost on empty cobblestones and even emptier glasses,
Burdened by those heavy miserables,
Why again,
As many times before,
Will tonight be the end,
Of dwelling on goodbyes i said to my friend,
As many as the burdens i bore,
Do i feel wretched right into my bossoms core.
D. G.
“I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it.”
— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
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