Grief is a house, where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us. the mirrors how to reflect us, the walls how to contain us.
Grief is a house that disappears, each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell. a house that blows into the air, at the slightest gust. that buries itself deep in the ground, while everyone is sleeping.
Grief is a house where no one can protect you where the younger sister, will grow older than the older one. where the doors, no longer let you in or out”.
A non-conformist in search of my own asthetic ideals.... All I really want is to try and live the life that is spontaneously welling up within me . Why is that so very difficult ?? For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
Look how the sky changes rapidly though as in fazes stopping still the clouds do hoover like above the trees to look we turn our faces dim though the reality seems recollecting our midnight dreams Dark and rampant with the
Like a stingray it stung me tonight the new moon. A live flame lobbing the sparks. The seduction had bypassed the sleezy love of white egrets. When are you going to make a history by failing to fall? Can I
Sailing in thr ocean of thought, I was left with naught. Sun in water was sinking, My eyes sparkled without blinking. I was in the ocean’s core, Miles away from the shore. A wave flowed me away, With them a