February 2012
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Never forget who you are. It is so easy to. Even in the blackest dirt, even in the saddest grime, do not forget your spirit. Who lies underneath your skin and bones.
I’ve lost two kilos in three days, wooo, now only six to go. Splendid.
So, who wants to take my hand and step out of the box with me? Forget these safe zones,the lace of restriction has begun to blister my skin. I’m tired of being careful…being bored.
The moon was a bright yellow tonight, on the gold coast, waxing and magnificent, resting within the thick darkness of the night like a boat on fire, sailing through the sea. And in the park behind the forest, the grass is already damp with dew, so it sticks to my thighs and calves and the nape of my neck as i lay down on it. Not that it matters, nothing matters. The beginning of a type of magic...
Control and balance play along such a fine line, so much so that it’s as if it were invisible…incomprehensible. And so, these days unfold so precariously, that i’m sure everything is destined to collapse, just as a dew drop drooping from a poppy petal, lingering, like an ominous cloud over a teeny ant city…silently they wait, for what? destruction. I suppose so.
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.”
– Edvard Munch (via valeofdreams)