Weblog

Thursday, 05 November 2009

Wednesday, 28 October 2009

Wednesday, 07 October 2009

  • There are few things more insufferable in this world
    than plucking an unripe fruit from its just-bending
    branch, tender and supple as it may seem. Feeling
    it yield to your fingers as you press harder and
    harder and harder and never stop until finally,
    right after the moment when the skin is toughest
    and almost unyielding, it gives way and you
    pierce it, thrusting as far as you can go
    with momentum. It sucks you in and maybe
    even holds you there as its still bitter juices
    drip down the sides, warm. Glass, metal, fire, flesh
    whatever the instrument, pulls out and realizes
    the mistake: this is not for the taking, not in its
    prime yet, and discards the used fruit under the
    now not bending branch to slowly rot,
    empty, bitter, unripe, and maybe to
    sprout again.

Tuesday, 06 October 2009

  • We are dying, my love, even though
    you may not know it yet. I can see through
    my own blurring eyes that yours are blurring
    too, and the breaths we are taking are helping
    less and less and becoming
    less and less until eventually, they will be
    nothing at all. And the fly is here, my love,
    you know the one that you hate who visited
    the woman who could not stop for death, but that
    does not seem to be the case with us. I do not mind
    it so much. I would like it, though, if you held
    on to my hand so when we leave, we can do it together,
    and when we fly, I won't fall. Because you know
    I am terribly afraid of heights, but I'd rather
    not be in the fire.

Sunday, 13 September 2009

  • I always expect something out of birthdays. Anything, really. Something special or memorable.

    It's all a load of trash.

    Selfish.