About this user
"stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires"
we commonly give the color of our notions of the known to our ideas of the unknown: we call death sleep because it outwardly resembles sleeping; if we call death a new life its because it seems like something different from life. out of a few misunderstandings with reality we construct beliefs and hopes, and we live on these crusts, which we call bread, just like the poor children who play at being happy.
"i don't know if loneliness can ever fully be cured from someone. it's like a wretched disease that buries itself so far deep inside your bones, that even if it's subsided by a touch or a night or even years spent with another, that it could still come back to haunt you."
when we look too long into the sun, so far away and thirsty, when we raise our sticky lips and brow to that white-hot whole hole god, when we close our eyes and find the shadows of the sun on our breast, when we trace the burns inside our lids, and soothe them with our palms, we find ourselves in a world that is a chilly evening, a climbing down the drain, where wax will hold feathers in place, and your sight will be blurred by rings of what could have been.
when all the day has been used up - when the possibilities are done - what we wouldnt give, to when we had the chance, to truly love the sun.
Age
110
Hometown
NYC
Country
United States
Occupation
sloth
