I wish I could stop running now . . . I can't. Not yet.
I can’t feel in pieces, it’s always in chunks.
Almost So Close but as Almost So Far as Event Horizons Are. #flickstackr
My Heart Stands Still Between Winter & Spring
Fire & Ice
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
- Robert Frost Flickr: http://flic.kr/p/ezpy42
It’s (Not) Love if You (N)Ever Saw His Face. #flickstackr
My breath is white, my body curled inwards to contain the little remaining heat. My thoughts are filled with imaginary places, tendrils crawling in the mud of modern literature for scattered tickets to new lands. I add them to my itinerary, sleepless and close to tears. My own world is too vast, yet I am escaping. To places snuggled between beginnings and ends, not furled across a labyrinth of fear and regret. My reality sits outside of me yet it tugs at my flesh, burrowing into my bones like worms which cannot wait to feed me to the soil before my blood turns cold. A voice echoes, circling softly around my mind. Its words meaningless, but not letting me die.
Red string is now blood and may have always been, hands bound in guilt and shame.