The Spleen (Baudelaire)

[KriBlackRoson]

love it

[SuperBluehaze]

A caged tiger obsessed with words, I sort through inherited notions, I am forced to look back, to not listen to betraying whispers, that whisper of flying to the sun, as I ponder the movement of time. This ceaseles succession leaves me falling, as I vanish to a point, and find no core of identity. This ceasless succession divides me, leaving me standed by this distance. Still cheating whispers, coming from my heart, tell of taking flight and flying to the sun.

[SuperBluehaze]

Whispers, softly whispering, tell of being thrown outside this wide barren self, of another place not lashed by alien spaces; that this nebulous drift can find conformation in an alien world. They linger in the heart but never disclose how all our hard won certainties shatter and fall; that it is useless to pace each line away seeking the sun: surrounded by savage spaces meaning cannot be still. Betraying whispers only send me sliding into a sifting world.

[SuperBluehaze]

Whispers neglect to tell how one tearing whisper, one word, leads to a sense of exile; broken promises, whispers whisper but refuse to tell how love is undermined by good intentions, the world is tiger-stripped by blurred meanings. Betraying whispers whisper only of the sun, and not of cruel might, or the dark night.

[SuperBluehaze]

Whispers linger in the heart, bring to mind other times. Whispers whisper as they caress and betray, such reminiscences summon a longing to transform the night; In evoking an inner remberance, they intoxicate the brain and send warmth through this dusy bone-bag; Cheating whispers, whisper as they stand on sand.

[SuperBluehaze]

Whispers linger in desire, they tip toe into my heart; whispers that hint of the beyond. Cheating whispers, pantoms that haunt me, tell me dreams can take flight, and fly to the sun. Betraying whispers neglect to tell me, these melting wings are made of wax; they fade and crumble I tumble and fall and so, too, my words.

[SuperBluehaze]

Whispers linger, eckoing through the corridoors of memory, they tip toe into my heart, soft words that give me a wish to fly to the sun with wings made of wax the sun melts my dreams; I tumble and fall and so do my words. Whispers envolope all meaning, thought emotion sensation feeling ca only be directed t a whispering non-existent future Whispers in this movement, a sequence that steps out, memory whispers in a nebulous drift