Friday, December 23, 2005

Ufio har

"Guilty by design -- she's nothing more than fiction."

[I contemplated my semester success in this space, and then decided that when held up ("in the light," so to speak) with those other things I'm thinking about, it seemed too trivial and forced.]

Ting-a-ling.

"He's everything you want. He's everything you need. He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be..."

I have, in these last few days, mused on an astounding number of things. Some have made me incredibly uncomfortable. Some have made me angry. Some have made me frustrated and irritated and...some have moved me to tears. At the moment, I'm actually quite worried. We'll see how those things that have triggered this particular emotion pan out -- it's like roulette with me. I'm perpetually unhinged and subconsciously loving every minute of it.

"...So please, stop explaining. Don't tell me...'cause it hurts."

Lately I've been reliving those moments that caused the greatest pain in my life. I've been reliving blood and flesh-gouged and death after death and my-fault-desertion and cruelty weathered for hope of love and unwanted stretches of solitude and massive doses of guilt and tears that I've caused and self-destructive behaviors and...everything. Such thoughts came creeping in a week ago, and only hit fever pitch last night. I wish I hadn't heard those strains through the floorboards. I wish I could have been held and taken care of after a cold, dark, notion-flooded drive home. "We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip." Won't be held responsible -- she was touching her face! For the life of me...

Oh, lord.

If she tries to remedy as she's said she would, does it matter if she fails on nights when no light shines?

"Og hér ert þú...
Fannst mér...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú."

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

To breack the cycal takes such curage and strength.

To not retreat back into the iron maiden, which can look so inviting and safe compaired to the light of exspertion, this takes the stuff of heros.

And you are doing it!

Fight on, nobal lilium, fight on.

Matt

PS. sorry for the mis-spelling, Word was acting up.

5:48 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


That is not dead which can eternal lie, yet with strange aeons death may die..

Upon the wings of a dream, she rides.. Close she comes to me, fills me with light. Towards the dark side of the moon, we fly. She sings me a tune, away through the silver starlight..

I don't want to wake up this time, I'm alive on this serpent ride..

10:23 PM  

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