Errances

wallpaper covered ceilings
complicated feelings

and i couldn’t want nor breathe motherfucker

you’ve never been good at apologies
and i’ve never been good with analogies

the night so black that the darkness hummed

holy molly me oh my

and i don’t feel safe anymore, oh, what a mess
i wonder who’s watching me now, the IRS?

sometimes i think you were the one who gave me dandruff
and anger and a dimple on the chin
weak ankles, always a little rough
and so many papers to fill

resilience too

envie de me battre avec le crous
le dernier debout gagne

the sky is low
the clouds are mean
– Emily Dickinson

they’re shoes shoes, silly

we came to the conclusion that sick child and accident cancel each other out

I can’t listen to bowie without thinking about her

ps : it still didn’t pass

« Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds »
-USPS

this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but a whimper

-T. S. Eliot, ‘The Hollow Men’

i still can’t understand what an oxford comma is supposed to be

been feeling’ like a canary in a coal mine lately

the only supermarket i want to shop at is mr.fox’s

as we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
a million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
for the people hear us singing: bread and roses! bread and roses!

as we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
for they are women’s children, and we mother them again.
our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

as we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

-james hoppenheim, 1911

life is too short to talk about metaphysics

I still remember us
all day in bed
watching mister gadget

breakfast food and morning cartoons
that spill in the afternoon

yesterday i saw lady di
in the flesh
and fell in love a little

i’d be good at devotion, i know it
i think we all crave for some sort of higher power
shame i can’t bring myself to believe

a sunday bloody sunday kinda love

I feel a bit clearer now. Everything’s been out of order. Time, I mean.

I thought for so long that time was like a line, that our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they fell, one into another. And on it went, just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning…and the end.

But I was wrong. It’s not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain. Or… like snow… or confetti.

-The haunting of Hill House

aux bois, à rennes, je croyais qu’on disais moi

qu’est-ce qu’un monstre ? un être dont la survie est incompatible avec l’ordre existant
-diderot (presque)

i’m not sur if i hate scouts or if I just fear them