A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.
William Wordsworth
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
sharpest
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A blog about life and losing my mind; about the emotions that take us, the colours that catch us, the little things that are lost. We create the dark, and we can stem the shadow.
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archives
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2010
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April
(35)
- our younger noise.
- measured up in lines.
- first steps from flame
- bad blood
- the lightning bolts that love his heart
- left behind in puddles
- a brother in bruises.
- sharpest
- the night is a tattoo that.
- things to make and do
- tidal through the webs.
- I'll believe in anything
- colours.
- the names of moons.
- across a dark infinite night
- ...wanderlust.
- I feel so...
- them all in half
- polarities
- a death in the
- nothing words
- in ax of, past
- the currents go and fuck and drown.
- louder teeth
- you just kind of.
- sleepy walls, and savage.
- ghost song.
- tell the bees...
- the first night, when.
- I will find you there.
- glued to a wall.
- cartographic.
- this gives me, mightier
- a fear from a day.
- violent libraries, really only
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April
(35)
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